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AN 




ESSAY 



ON THE 



NATURE AND IMMUTABILITY 



OF 



TRUTH, 



IN OPPOSITION TO 

SOPHISTJRT AND SCEPTICIS3L 



BY JAMES BR ATTIE, I.L-D. 

'ROrESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOFHY AND LOGIC IN THE HA.- 
IIXS<JHAL COLLEGE AND UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN. 



Nunquam aliud natum, aliud sapientia dicit.'^yuvenaL 

FIRST AMERICAN FROM THE SIXTH EUROPEAN EDITION. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED BY SOLOMON WIEATT, NO. 368, 
NORTH SECOND STREET. 

1809.. 



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CONTENTS. 



Page* 

Introduction, . . . % ^ 5 

PART !• 

Of the Standard of Truth. * . ' 20 

CHAP. I« 

Of the preception of Truth m general, - ^ 1 

CHAP. II. 

All reasoning terminates in first principles. 
All evidence ultimately intuitive. Com- 
mon sense the standard of truth to man. 36 
Sect. 1. Of Mathematical Reasoning, • 37 
Sect. 2. Of the evidence of External Sense, 41 
Sect. 3. Of the evidence of Internal Sense, or 

Consciousness, « . . • 46 

Sect. 4. Of the evidence of Memory, . 61 
Sect. 5. Of Reasoning from the effect to the 

cause, . • • • . . 65 

Sect. 6. Of Probable or Experimentarl Rea^ 
soning, . . . . . . 79 

Sect. 7. Of Analogical Reasoning, ♦ 83 

Sect. 8. Of Faith in Testimony, • 86 

Sect. 9. Conclusion of this Chapter. Further 
Proof. General remarks on Scepticism, 92 

PART II. 

Illustrations of the preceding Doctrine, with 
Inferences, . . • . . 102 

CHAP. I. 

Confirmation of this Doctrine from the practice, 
Sect. 1. Of Mathematicians, . . 104 

Sect. 2. Of Natural Philosophers, . 112 

Sect. 2. The subject continued. Intuitive 
Truths distinguishable into classes^ - 13^ 



^y CONTENTS. 

CHAP. II. Page. 

This Doctrine rejected by Sceptical Philoso- 
phers, . . . , . . 145 

Sect. 1. General Observations. Rise and pro- 
gress of Modern Scepticism. — Of Des Cartes ^ 
and Malebranche. — Locke and Berkeley. — 
General view of Mr. Hume's Theory of the 
^ Understanding, .... 146 

Sect. 2. Of the non-existence of Matter, 176 

Sect. 3. Of Liberty and Necessity, . 199 

, CHAP. III. 

Recapitulation and Inference. Criterion of 
Truth, . . - , . . .248 

PART. III. 

Objections Answered, . . . 251 

CHAP. I. 

The principles of this Essay consistent with the 
interests of Science, and the rights of man- 
kind. Imperfection of liie School-logic, 253 

CHAP. II. 

The subject continued. Estimate of Metaphy- 
sic and Metaphysical writers. Causes of the 
present degeneracy of Moral Science, 270 

CHAP. III. 

Consequences of Metaphysical Scepticism, 331 
Postscript, . . . , . 333 



INTRODUCTION 



TO those who love learning and mankind, and 
who are more ambitious to distinguish themselves 
as men, than as disputants, it is matter of humilia- 
tion and regret, that names and things have so oft 
been mistaken for each other ; that so much of the 
philosopher's time must be employed in ascertain- 
ing the signification of words ; and that so many 
doctrines, of high reputation, and of ancient date, 
when traced to their first principles, have been found 
to terminate in verbal ambiguity. If I have any 
knowledge of my own heart, or of the subject I pro- 
pose to examine, I may venture to assure the read- 
er, that it is^no part of the design of this book, to 
encourage verbal disputation. On the contrary, 
it is my sincere purpose to avoid, and to do every 
thing in my power to check it; convinced as I am^ 
that it never can do any good, and that it has been 
the cause of much evil, both in philosophy and in 
common life. And I hope I have a fairer chance 
to escape it, than some who have gone before me 
in this part of science. I aim at no paradoxes ; my 
prejudices (if certain instinctive suggestions of the 
understanding may be so called) are all in favour 
of truth and virtue; and I have no principles to sup- 
port, but those which seem to me, to have influenced 
the judgment of a great majority of mankind in all 
ages of the world. 

Some readers may think, that there is but little 
merit in this declaration ; it being as much for my 
own credit, as for the interest of mankind, that I 
guard against a practice, which is acknowledged to 
be always unprofitable and generally pernicious. A 

B 



6 INTROi:>UCTION. 

verbal disputant! whatx:laim can he have to the title 
of philosopher ! what has he to do with the laws of 
nature, with the observation of facts, with life and 
manners ! Let him not intrude upon the company 
of men of science ; but repose with his brethren 
Aquinas and Suarez, in the corner of some Gothic 
cloister, dark as his understanding, and cold as his 
heart. Men are now become too judicious to be 
amused with words, and too firm-minded to be con- 
futed with quibbles. — Many of my contemporaries 
would readily join in this apostrophe, who^et are 
themselves the dupes of the most egregious dealers 
in logomachy that ever perverted the faculty of 
speech. In fact, from some instances that have oc- 
curred to my own observation, I have reason to be- 
lieve, that verbal controversy has not always, even 
in this age, been accounted a contemptible thing ; 
and the reader, when he comes to be better ac- 
quainted with my sentiments, will perhaps think 
the foregoing declaration more disinterested than at 
first sight it may appear. 

They who form opinions concerning the manners 
and principles of the times, may be divided into 
three classes. Some will tell us, that the present 
age transcends all that have gone before it, in po- 
liteness, learning, and good sense ; will thank Pro- 
vidence (or their stars) that their lot of life has been 
cast in so glorious a period ; and wonder how men 
could support existence amidst the ignorance and 
barbarism of former days. By others we are ac- 
counted a generation of triflers and profligates ; 
sciolists in learning, hypocrites in virtue, and for- 
malists in good breeding ; wise only when we fol- 
low the ancients, and foolish whenever we deviate 
from them. Sentiments so violent are generally 
wrong : and therefore I am disposed to adopt the 
notions of those who may be considered as forming 
an intermediate class j who, though not blind to the 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

follies, are yet willing to acknowledge the virtues, 
both of past ages, and of the present. And surely, 
in every age, and in every man, there is something 
to praise, as well as something to blame. 

When I survey the philosophy of the present age, 
I find much matter of applause and admiration. 
Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, and Natural 
History, in all their branches, have risen to a pitch 
of perfection, that does signal honour to human ca- 
pacity, and far surpasses what the most sanguine 
projectors of former times had any reason to laok 
for : and the paths to further improvement in those 
sciences are so clearly marked out, that nothing but 
|ionesty and attention seem requisite to ensure the 
success of future adventurers. Moral Philoso- 
phy and Logic have not been so fortunate. Yet, 
even here, we have happily got rid of much ped- 
antry and jargon ; our systerns have more the ap- 
pearance of liberal sentiments, good taste, and cor- 
rect composition, than those of the schoolmen ; we 
disclaim (at least in words) all attachment to hypo- 
thesis and party ; profess to study men and things, 
as well as boolcs and words ; and assert, with the 
utmost vehemence of protestation, our love of truth, 
of candour, and of sound philosophy. But let us 
not be deceived by appearances. Neither Moral 
Philosophy, nor the kindred sciences of Logic and 
Criticism, are at present upon the most desirable 
footing. The rage of paradox and system has trans- 
formed them (although of all sciences these ought 
to be the simplest and the clearest) into a mass of 
confusion, darkness, and absurdity. One kind of 
jargon is laid aside ; but another has been adopted, 
more fashionable indeed, but not less frivolous. 
Hypothesis, though verbally disclaimed, is really 
adhered to with as much obstinacy as ever. Words 
have been defined, but their meaning still remains 
indefinite. Appeals have been made to experience ; 



8 . INTRODUCTIOjNf^ 

but with such misrepresentation of fact, and in such 
equivocal language, as plainly shew the authors to 
have been more concerned for their theory, than 
for the truth. All sciences, and especially Moral 
Philosophy, ought to regulate human practice : 
practice is regulated by principles, and all principles 
suppose conviction : yet the aim of our most cele- 
brated moral systems is, to divest the mind of every 
principle, and of all conviction ; and, consequently, 
to disqualify man for action, and to render him as 
useless, and as wretched, as possible. In a word, 
Scepticism is now the profession of every fashion- 
able inquirer into human nature ; a scepticism 
which is not confined to points of mere speculation, 
but has been extended to practical truths of the 
highest importance, even to the principles of moral- 
ity and religion. Proofs of all these assertions will 
appear in the sequel. 

I said that my prejudices are all in favour of truth 
and virtue. To avow any sort of prejudice, m^ay 
perhaps startle some readers. If it should, I must 
here intreat all such to pause a moment, and ask of 
their own hearts these simple questions : Are virtue 
and truth useful to mankind ? Are they matters of 
indifference ? Or are they pernicious ? If any one 
finds himself disposed to think them pernicious, or 
matters of indifference, I Vvould advise him to lay 
my book aside ; for it does not contain one senti- 
ment in which he can be interested ; nor one ex- 
pression with which he can be pleased. But he who 
believes that virtue and truth are of the highest im- 
portance, that in them is laid the foundation of hu- 
man happiness, and that on them depends the very 
existence of human society, and of human crea- 
tures, that person and I are of the same mind ; 

I have no prejudices that he would wish me not to 
have : he may proceed ; and I hope he will proceed 
with pleasure, and encourage, by his approbation. 



rNTROI^UCTION. 9 

this honest attempt to vindicate truth and virtue ; 
and to overturn that pretended philosophy which 
supposes, or which may lead us to suppose, every 
dictate of conscience, every impulse of understand- 
ing, and every information of sense, questionable 
and ambiguous. 

This sceptical philosophy (as it is called) seems 
to me to be dangerous, not because it is ingenious, 
but because it is subtle and obscure. Were it 
rightly understood, no confutation would be neces- 
sary ; for it does in fact, confute itself, as I hope to 
demonstrate. But many, to my certain knowledge, 
have read it, and admitted its tenets, who do not 
understand the grounds of them ; and many more, 
swayed by the fashion of the times, have greedily 
adopted its conclusions, without any knowledge of 
the premises, or any concern about them. An at- 
tempt therefore to expose this pretended philosophy 
to public view, in its proper colours, will not, I 
hope, be censured as impertinent by any whose 
opinion I value : if it should, I shall be satisfied 
with the approbation of my own conscience, which 
will never reproach me for intending to do good. 

I am sorry, that in the course of this inquiry, 
it will not always be in my power to speak of some 
celebrated names with that deference, to which su« 
periov talents, and superior virtue, are always enti- 
tled. Every fri end of civil and religious lilferty , every 
lover of mankind, every admirer of sincerity and sim- 
ple manners, every heart that warms at the recollec- 
tion of distinguished virtue, must consider Locke 
as one of the most amiable, and most illustrious 
men that ever our nation produced. Such he is, such 
he will ever be, in my estimation. The parts of his 
philosophy to which truth obliges me to object, are 
but few, and compared with the extent and impor- 
tance of his other writings, extremely inconsider- 
able. I object, to them, because I think them 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

erroneous and dangerous; and I am convinced, 
that their author, if he had lived to see the infer- 
ences that have been drawn from them, would have 
been the first to declare them absurd, and would have 
expunged them from his works with indignation, — 
Berkeley was equally amiable in his life, and 
equally a friend to truth and virtue. In elegance 
of composition he was perhaps superior. I admire 
his virtues : I can never sufficiently applaud his 
zeal in the cause of religion : but some of his rea- 
sonings on the subject of human nature I cannot 
admit, without renouncing my claim to rationality. 
'Inhere is^ a writer now alive, of whose philosophy 
I have much to say. By his^ philosophy, I mean 
the sentiments he has published in a book called, 
A Treatise of Human Nature^ in three volumes, 
printed in the year 1739; the principal and most 
dangerous doctrines of w^hich he has since repub- 
lished again, and again, under the title of. Essays 
Moral and Political^ i^c. Of his other works I say 
nothing; nor have I at present any concern with 
them. Virgil is said to have been a bad prose- 
writer ; Cicero was certainly a bad poet : and this 
author, though not much acquainted with human 
nature, and therefore not well qualified to write a 
treatise upon it, may yet be an excellent politician, 
financier, and historian. His merit in these re- 
spects is indeed generally allowed : and if my suf- 
frage could add any thing to the lustre of his repu- 
tation, I should here, with great sincerity and 
pleasure, join v^ voice to that of the public, and 
make such an encomium on the author of the His- 
torij of England as would not offend any of his ra- 
tional admirers. But whv is this author's character 
so replete with inconsistency ! why should his prin^ 
ciples and his talents extort at once our esteem 
and detestation, our applause and contempt ! That 
he, whose manners in private life are said to be so 
agreeable to many of his acquaintance, should yet 



INTRODUCTION, 11 

in the public capacity of an author, have given so 
much cause of just offence to all the friends of vir- 
tue and mankind, is to me matter of astonishment 
and sorrow, as well as of indignation. That he, 
who succeeds so well in describing the fates of na- 
tions, should yet have failed so egregiously in ex- 
plaining the operations of the mind, is one of those 
incongruities in human genius, for which perhaps 
philosophy will never be able fully to account. 
That he, who has^o imj-artially stated the opposite 
pleas and principles of our political factions, should 
yet have adopted the most illiberal prejudices 
against natural and revealed religion : that he, who 
on some occasions has displayed even a profound 
erudition,- should at other times when intoxicated 
with a favourite theory, have suffered affirmations 
to escape him, which would have fixed the oppro- 
brious name of Sciolist on a less celebrated author: 
and finally, that a moral philosopher, who seems 
to have exerted his utmost ingenuity in searching 
after paradoxes, should yet happen to light on none, 
but such as are all, without exception, on the side 
of licentiousness and scepticism ; — these are incon- 
sistencies perhaps equally inexplicable ; at least 
they are such as I do not at present choose to ex- 
plain. And yet, that this author is chargeable 
with all these inconsistencies, will not, I think, 
be denied by any person of sense and candour, 
who has read his writings with attention. His phi- 
losophy has done great harm. Its admirers, I know, 
are very numerous; but I have not as yet met with 
one person, who both admired and understood it. 
We are prone to believe what we wish to be true : 
and most of this author's philosophical tenets are 
so well adapted to what I fear I may call the fash- 
ionable notions of the times, that those who are 
ambitious to conform to the latter, will hardly be 
disposed to examine scrupulously the evidence of 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

the former. Having made this declaratiori, 

which I do in the spirit of an honest man, I must 
take the liberty to treat this author with that plain- 
ness, which the cause of truth, the interests of so- 
ciety, and my own conscience, require. The same 
candour that prompts me to praise, will also 
oblige me to blame. The inconsistency is not in me, 
but in him. Had I done but half as much as he, 
in labouring to subvert principles which ought ever 
to he held sacred, I know not whether the friends 
of truth would have granted me any indulgence : 
I am sure they ought not. Let me be treated 
with the lenity due to a good citizen, no longer 
than I act as becomes one. 

If it shall be acknowledged by the candid and in- 
telligent reader, that I have in this book contributed 
something to the establishment of old truths, I shall 
not be much offended, though others should pre- 
tend to discover that I have advanced nothing new. 
Indeed I would not wish to say any thing on these 
subjects, that has not often occurred to the common 
sense of mankind. In Logic and Morals, we may 
have new treatises, and new theories ; but we are 
not now to expect new discoveries. The princi- 
ples of moral duty have long been understood in 
these enlightened parts of the world ; and mankind^ 
in the time that is past, have had more truth under 
their consideration, than they will probably have 
in the time to come. Yet he who makes these 
sciences the study of his life, may perhaps collect 
particulars concerning their evidence, which though 
known to a few, are unknown to many ; may set 
^ome principles in a more striking light than that 
in which they have been formerly viewed; may 
devise methods of confuting new errors, and expos- 
ing new paradoxes; and may hit upon a more 
popular way of displaying what has hitherto been 
exhibited in too dark and mysterious a form. 



INTRODUCTION. 1 



<^ 



It is commonly allowed, that the science of hu- 
man nature is of all human sciences the most curi- 
ous and important. To Khow ourselves, is a pre- 
cept which the wise in all ages have recommended, 
and which is enjoined by the authority of revela- 
tion itself. Can any thing be of more consequence 
to man, than to know what is his duty, and how 
he may arrive at happiness? It is from the exami- 
nation of his own heart that he receives the first in- 
timations of the one, and the only sure criterion of 
the other. — What can be more useful, more de- 
lightful, and more sublime, than to contemplate 
the Deity? It is in the works of nature, particu- 
larly in the constitution of the human soul, that we 
discern the first and most conspicuous traces of 
the Almighty ; for without some previous acquain- 
tance with our own moral nature, we could not have 
any certain knowledge of His. — Destitute of the 
hope of immortality, and a future retribution, how 
contemptible, how miserable is man ! And yet, 
did not our moral feelings, in concert with what 
reason discovers of the Deity, evidence the neces- 
sity of a future state, in vain should we pretend to 
judge rationally of that revelation by which life 
and immortality have been brought to light. 

Hovi then is this science to be learned? In what 
manner are we to study human nature ? Doubtless 
by examining our own hearts and feelings, and by 
attending to the conduct of other men. But are 
not the writings of philosophers useful towards 
the attainment of this science ? Most certainly they 
are : for whatever improves the sagacity of judg- 
ment, the sensibility of moral perception, or the 
delicacy of taste ; whatever renders our knowledge 
of moral and intellectual facts more extensive; 
whatever impresses our minds with more enlarged 
and more powerful sentiments of duty, with more 



14 INTRODUCTION, 

aiFectIng views of God and Providence, and with 
greater energy of belief in the doctrines of natural 
religion ; — every thing of this sort either makes us 
more thoroughly acquainted, or prepares us for be- 
coming more thoroughly acquainted with our own 
nature, and with that of other beings, and with the 
relations which they and we bear to one another. 
But I fear we shall not be able to improve ourselves 
in any one of these respects, by reading the modern 
systems of scepticism. What account then are we 
to make of those systems and their authors ? The 
following Dissertation is partly designed as an an- 
swer to this question. But it has a further view : 
w^hich is, to examine the foundations of this scep- 
ticism, and see whether these be consistent with 
what all mankind must acknowledge to be the 
foundations of truth ; to inquire, whether the cul- 
tivation of scepticism be salutary or pernicious to 
science and mankind ; and whether it may not be 
possible to devise certain criteria, by which the 
absurdity of its conclusions may be detected, even 
by those who may not have leisure or subtilty, 
or metaphysical knowledge, sufficient to qualify 
them for a logical confutation of all its premises. 
If it be confessed, that the present age has some 
tendency to licentiousness, both in principle and 
practice, and that the works of sceptical writers 
have some tendency to favour that licentiousness ; 
it will also be confessed, that this design is neither 
absurd nor unseasonable. 

A celebrated writer^* on human nature has ob- 
served, that " if truth be at all within the reach of 
human capacity, it is certain it must lie very deep 
and abstruse:" and a little after he adds, ''that he 
would esteem it a strong presumption against the 
philosophy he i$ going to unfold, were it so very 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 3, 4. 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

eiasy and obvious." I am so far from adopting 
this opinion, that I declare in regard to the few 
things I have to say on human nature, that I should 
esteem it a very strong presumption against them, 
if they were not easy and obvious. Physical and 
mathematical truths are often abstruse ; but facts 
and experiments relating to the human mind, when 
expressed in proper words, ought to be obvious to 
all. I find that those poets, historians, and novel- 
ists, who have given the most lively displays ef 
human nature, and who abound most in sentiments 
easily comprehended, and readily admitted as true, 
are the most entertaining, as well as the most use- 
ful. How then should the philosophy of the hu- 
man mind be so difficult and obscure ? Indeed, if 
it be an author's determinate purpose to advance 
paradoxes, some of which are incredible, and 
others beyond comprehension ; if he be willing to 
avail himself all he can of the natural ambiguity of 
language in supporting those paradoxes ; or if he 
enter upon inquiries too refined for human under- 
standing ; he must often be obscure, and often un- 
intelligible. But my views are very different. 
I intend only to suggest some hints for guarding the 
mind against error; and these, I hope, will be 
found to be deduced from principles which every 
man of common capacity may examine by his daily 
experience. 

It is true, that several subjects of intricate spec- 
ulation are treated of in this book. But I have en- 
deavoured, by constant appeals to fact and expe- 
rience, by illustrations and examples the most 
familiar I could think of, and by a plainness and 
perspicuity of expression which sometimes may 
appear too much affected, to treat of them in a way, 
that I hope cannot fail to render them intelligible, 
even to those who are not much conversant in stu- 
dies of this kind. Truth, like virtue, to be loved, 
ne^ds only to be seen. My principles require no 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

disguise ; on the contrary, they will, if I mistake 
not, be most easily admitted by those who best un- 
derstand them. And I am persuaded, that the 
sceptical system would never have made such an 
alarming progress, if it had been well understood* 
The ambiguity of its language, and the intricacy 
and length of some of its fundamental investiga- 
tions, have unhappily been too successful in pro- 
ducing that confusion of thought, aud indistinctness 
of apprehension, in the minds both of authors and 
readers, which are so favourable to error and so- 
phistry. 

Few men have ever engaged in controversy, re- 
ligious, political, or philosophical, without being in 
some degree chargeable with misconception of the 
adversary's meaning. That I have never erred in 
this way, I dare not affirm. But I am conscious of 
having done every thing in my power to guard 
against it. The greater part of these papers have 
lain by me for several years. They have been re- 
peatedly perused by some of the acutest philoso- 
phers of the age, whom I have the honour to call 
my friends, and to whose advice and assistance, on 
this, as on other occasions, I am deeply indebted. 
I have availed myself all I could of reading and 
conversation ; and endeavoured, with all the can- 
dour I am master of, to profit by every hint of im- 
provement, and to examine to the bottom every ob- 
jection, that others have offered, or myself could 
devise. And may I not be permitted to add, that 
every one of those who have perused this essay, has 
advised the author to publish it ; and that many of 
them have encouraged him by this insinuation, to 
him the most flattering of all others. That by so do- 
ing, he would probably be of some service to the 
cause of truth, virtue, and mankind? In this hope 
he submits it to the public. And it is this hopa 
only that could have induced him to attempt po- 



INTRODUCTION. - If 

iemical disquisition : a species of writing, which, 
in^his own judgment, is not the most creditable; 
which he knows, to his cost, is not the most pleas- 
ing ; and of which he is well aware that it cannot 
fail to draw upon him the resentment of a numerous, 
powerful and fashionable party. But, 

Welcome for thee, fair virtue ! all the pas ; 
For thee, fair virtue ! welcome even the last. 

If these pages, which he hopes none will condemn 
who have not read, shall throw any light on the 
first principles of moral science : if they shall sug- 
gest, to the young and unwary, any cautions against 
that sophistry, and licentiousness of principle, 
which too much infect the conversations and com^ 
positions of the age ; if they shall, in any measure,^^ 
contribute to the satisfaction of any of the friends 
of truth and virtue ; his purpose will be complete- 
ly answered : and he will, to the end of his life, re- 
joice in the recollection of those painful hours 
which he passed in the examination of this most 
important controversy. 

yaniiary^ 1 770. 



/ 



AN 

ESSAY 

ON THE 

^JS'ATURE AND IMMUTABILITY OF TRUTH ^ 

IN OPPOSITION TO 

SOPHISTRY AND SCEPTICISM. 



I PURPOSE to treat this subject in the follow- 
ing manner. 

First, I shall endeavour to trace the several kinds 
of Evidence and Reasoning up to their first princi- 
ples ; with a view to ascertain the Standard of 
Truth, and explain its immutability. 

Secondly, I shall show that my sentiments on this 
head, however inconsistent with the genius of scep- 
ticism, and with the practice and principles of scep- 
tical writers, are yet perfectly consistent with the 
genius of true philosophy, and with the practice and 
principles of those who are universally allowed to 
have been the most successful in the investigation 
of truth : concluding with some inferences or rules, 
by which the more important fallacies of the scep- 
tical philosophy may be detected by every person 
of common sense, even though he should not pos- 
sess acuteness or metaphysical knowledge sufficient 
to qualify him for a logical confutation of them^ 

Thirdly, I shall answer some objections ; and 
make some remarks, by way of Estimate of Scep- 
ticism and sceptical writers^ 

I divide my discourse in this manner, chiefly 
with a view to the reader's accommodation. An 
exact arrangement of parts is necessary to Qonf^ 



o 



AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 



elegance on a whole ; but I am more studious of 
utility than of elegance. And though my sentiments 
might have been exhibited in a more systematic 
order, I am apt to think, that the order in which 
they first occurred to me is the most natural, and 
may be the most effectual for accomplishing my 
purpose. 

PART I. 

OF THE STANDARD OF TRUTH. 

THE love of truth has ever been accounted a 
good principle. Where it is known to prevail, we 
expect to find integrity and steadiness ; a temper of 
mind favourable to every virtue, and tending in an 
eminent degree to the advancement of public utility. 
To have no concern for the truth, to be false and 
fallacious, is a character which no person who is 
not utterly abandoned would choose to bear ; it is 
a character from which we expect nothing but levi- 
ty and inconsistence. Truth seems to be consi- 
dered by all mankind as something fixed, un- 
changeable, and eternal ; it may therefore be thought 
that to vindicate the permanency of truth is to dis- 
pute without an adversary. And indeed, if these 
questions were proposed in general terms, — Is there 
such a thing as truth? Are truth and falsehood 
different and opposite ? Is truth permanent and 
eternal ? — few persons would be hardy enough to 
answer in the negative. Attempts, however, have 
been made, sometimes through inadvertence, and 
sometimes (I fear) from design to undermine the 
foundations of truth, and to render their stability 
questionable ; and these attempts have been so 
vigorously forwarded, and so often renewed, that 
they now constitute a great part of what is called 
the philosophy of the human 7mnd* 



t^AT. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. Si 

^ It is difficulty perhaps impossible, to give a logi- 
cal definition of TPruth. But we shall endeavour to 
give such a de,scription of it, as may make others 
understand what we mean by the word. The defi- 
nitions of former writers are not so clear, nor so ac- 
curate, ' as could be w^ished. These therefore we 
shall overlook, without seeking either to explain or 
to correct them ; and shall satisfy ourselves with 
taking notice of some of the mental phenomena 
that attend the perception of truth. This seems 
to be the safest way of introducing the subject* 

CHAPTER L 

Of the PercepfAon of Truth in general* 

ON hearing these propositions : I exist, — - 
Things equal to one and the same thing are equal 
to one another, — The sun rose to-day,— There is 
a God, — Ingratitude ought to be blamed and 
punished, — The three angles of a triangle are equal 
to two right angles, &c. — I am conscious, that my 
mind readily admits and acquiesces in them. I 
say, that I believe them to be true ; that is, I con- 
ceive them to express something conformable to the 
nature of things^. Of the contrary propositions I 
should say, that my mind does not acquiesce in 
them, but disbelieves them, and conceives them to 
express something not conformable to the nature of 
things. My judgment in this case, I conceive to 
be the same which I should form in regard to 
these propositions, if I were perfectly acquainted 
with all nature, in all its parts, and in all its lawsf. 

— -A'O"^ Exafov us iyit ra eivo^i^ ovrcu yccci ty)S aXvj^si/x<r» 

Arist. Metaph. lib. 2. cap. 1. 

-f This remark, when applied to truth in general, is subject 
to certain limitations ; for which see part 2. chap. 1. sect. ,3 

C ^ 



22^ AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, PART I. 

If I be asked, what I mean by the nature of 
things^ I cannot otherwise explain myself, than by 
saying, that there is in my mind something which 
induces me to think, that every thing existing in 
nature, is determined to exist, and to exist after a 
certain manner in consequence of established laws j 
and that whatever is agreeable to those laws is 
agreeable to the nature of things, because by those 
laws the nature of all things is determined. Of 
those laws I do not pretend to know any thing, ex- 
cept so far as they seem to be intimated to me by 
my own feelings, and by the suggestions of my own 
understanding. But these feelings and suggestions 
are such, and affect me in such a manner, that I 
cannot help receiving them, and trusting in them, 
and believing that their intimations are not fallaci- 
ous, but such as I should approve if I were perfect- 
ly acquainted with every thing in the universe, and 
such as I may approve, and admit of, and regulate 
my conduct by, without danger of any inconve- 
nience. 

It is not easy on this subject to avoid identical 
expressions. I am not certain that I have been 
able to avoid them. And perhaps I might have 
expressed my meaning more shortly and more^ 
clearly, by saying, that I account That to be truth 
which the constitution of our nature determines us 
to believe, and That to h^ falsehood which the con- 
stitution of our nature determines us to disbelieve* 
Believing and disbelieving are simple acts of the 
jnind ; I can neither define nor describe them in 
words ; and therefore the reader must judge of 
their nature from his own experience. We often 
believe what we afterwards find to be false ; but 
while belief continues, we think it true ; when 
we discover its falsity, we believe it no longe^r. 

Hitherto we have used the word belief Xo denote 
that act of the mind which attends the perception of 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. ^ 23 

truth in general. But truths are ^f different Rinds ; 
some are certain, others only probable : and we 
ought not to call that act of the mind which attends 
the perception of certainty, and that which attends 
the perception of probability, by one and the same 
name. Some have called the former conviction^ and 
the latter assent. All convictions are equally strong: 
but assent admits of innumerable degrees, from 
moral certainty^ which is the highest degree, down- 
ward, through the several stages of opinion^ to that 
suspense of judgment which is called doubt. 

We may, without absurdity, speak of probable 
truth as well as of certain truth. Whatever a ra- 
tional being is determined, by the constitution of 
his nature, to admit as probable, may be called 
probable truth ; the acknowledgment of it is as uni- 
versal as rational nature, and will be as permanent. 
But, in this inquiry, we propose to confine our- 
selves chiefly to that kind of truth which may be 
called certain, which enforces our conviction^ and 
the belief of which, in a sound mind, is not tinc- 
tured with any doubt or uncertainty. 

The investigation and perception of truth is 
commonly ascribed to our rational faculties : and 
these have by some been reduced to two ; Reason, 
and Judgment ; the former being supposed to be 
conversant about certain truths, the latter chiefly 
about probabilities. But certain truths are not all 
of the same kind ; som.e being supported by one 
sort of evidence, and others by another : different 
energies of the understanding must therefore be 
exerted in perceiving them ; and these different 
energies must be expressed by different names, if 
we would speak of them distinctly and intelligibly. 
The certainty of some truths, for "instance, is per- 
ceived intuitively ; the certainty of others is per- 
ceived, not intuitively, but in consequence of a 
proof. Most of the propositions of Euclid are of 



24 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

the latter kind ; the axioms of geometry are of the 
former. Now^ if that faculty by which we per- 
ceive truth in consequence of a proof, be called 
Reason^ surely that power by which we perceive 
self-evident truth, ought to be distinguished by a 
different name. It is of little consequence what 
name w^e make choice of, provided that in choosing 
it we depart not from the analogy of language ; and 
that, in applying it, we avoid equivocation and 
am.biguity"^. Some philosophers of notef have 
given the name of Coynmon Sense to that faculty by 
which we perceive self-evident truth ; and, as the 
term seems proper enough, we shall adopt it. But 
in a subject of this kind, there is great danger of 
our being imposed upon by words ; we cannot 
therefore be too much upon our guard against that 
species of illusion. We mean to draw some im- 
portant inferences from this doctrine of the dis- 
tinction between Reason and Common Sense. 
Now these words are not always used in the strict 
signification we have here assigned them : let us 
therefore take a view of all the similar senses in 
which they are commonly used, and let us explain 
more particularly that sense in which we are to use 
them ; and thus we shall take every method in our 
power to secure ourselves against the impropriety 
of confounding our notions by the use of ambigu- 
ous and indefinite language. These philological 
discussions are indeed no part of philosophy ; but 
they are very necessary to prepare us for it. ^^ Qui 
ad interpretandam natm^am accesserit," says Bacon, 
" verborum mixtam naturam, et juvamenti et nocu- 
menti imprimis participem, distincte sciat*." 

* We might call the one Reason, and the other Reasoning,' 
but the similarity of the terms would frequently occasion botU 
obscurity in the sense, a^nd harshness in the sound. 

t Buffier, Dr. Reid, &c. 

4 De interpretatione Naturae, sent. 9, 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. ^ 25 

This distinction between Common Sense and 
Reason is no modem discovery f. The ancient 
geometricians were all acquainted with it. Aris- 
totle treats of self-evident principles in many parts 
of his works, particularly in the fourth book of his 
Metaphysics, and in the first book of his latter 
Analytics. He calls them Axioms or Dignities^ 
Principles and Common Sentiments^ ; and says of 
them, *^ That they are known by their own evi- 
dence! ; that except some first principles be taken 

* The Kotvovovjfxofjvvy) of the Greek Stoics seems to mean 
that benevolent afFection which men owe to society and to one 
another. Some modern moralists have called it the Public 
Sense. But the notion or idea we mean to express by the term 
Commo7i Sense is quite different. 

The Sensus Communis of the Latins hath several significa- 
tions. 1. It denotes this Public Seyise, or xo/vovoyj/xoo-vvT?. See 
Shaftsbury's Essay on the freedom of wit and humour y part 3. sect. 
1. Mjte. 2. It denotes that experience and knowledge of life 
which is acquired by living in society. Thus Horace seems to 
use it, lib. 1. satir. 3. lin. 66. And thus Qumtilian, speaking 
of the advantages of a public education ; " Sensum ipsum qui 
communis dicitur, ubi discet, cum se a congressu, qui non ho- 
minibus solum, sed mutis quoque animalibus naturalis est, se- 
gregarit ;'* lib, 1. cap. 2. 3. It seems to signify that instinc- 
tive persuasion of truth which arises from intuitive evidence^ 
and is the foundation of all reasoning : 

" Corpus enim per se communis deliquat esse 
Sensus : quo nisi prima fides fundata valebit, 
Haud erit occultis de rebus quo referentes 
Confirmare animi quicquam ratione queamus.'* 

Lucretius J lib. 1. ver. 423, 

yL rocs ycoiyocs ^o^xSf e^ cuv octuo^ins ^EiKvvao-i* otovy ort ttixv avay- 

Metaphys. lib. 3. cap. 2. 

\ Analytic, lib. 2. cap. 16. Of these first principles, a 

French peripatetic, who wrote about the beginning of the last 
century, expresses himself thus : ** Ces principes portent le 
nom de communs, non seulement parce quails servent a plu- 
sieurs sciences, mais aus&i parce que I* intelligence en est ci}m'' 



26 AN ESSAY ON TKUTH. PART t. 

for granted, there can be neither reason nor rea- 
soning^; that it is impossible that every truth should 
admit of proof, otherwise proof would extend in in- 
Jinituvt^ which is incompatible with its nature f; 
and that if ever men attempt to prove a first prin- 
ciple, it is because they are ignorant of the nature 
of proof ij:," 

The word Reason is used in several different 
senses. 1. It is used to signify that quality of hu- 
man nature which distinguishes man from the infe- 
rior animals. Man is called a reasonable beings 

fnune a tons. On les appelle aussi digniteZi et notions communes: 
a scavoir, dignitez, quasi comme dignes entre toutes les autres 
qu'on y adjoiiste foy, a cause de la grande excellence de leur 
clarte et evidence ; et notions communes, pour ce qu'ils sont 
si connus, qu' aussi tost que la signification des termes done ils 
sent composez est entendue, sans discourir ny argumenter da- 
vantage dessus, chacun entend naturellement leur verite ; si ce 
n'est queique hebete prive de raison ; lequel je renvoye a Aris- 
tote, qui pronounce, que ceux qui doutent, qu'il faut reverer 
les Dieux, ou aymer les parents, meritent d'estre punis ; et que 
ceux qui doutent que la neige est blanche ont besoin de sens: et 
SL Averroes, qui dit, que ceux qui ne scauroient distinguer ce 
qui est connu par soy d'avec ce qui ne Pest pas, sont incapa- 
bles de philosopher ; et que ne pouvoir connoistre ces prin- 
cipes, procede de queique defaut de nature, ou de peu d'exer- 
cice, ou d'une mauvaise accoustumance enracinee." 

' Corps de toute la Philosophic de Theophraste Boujou, p. 79. 

* MAv y^f ri^tvns, ocvoct^acri ro ^nzXeysa-^^oci^ t^ oXcos Xoyov* 

Aristot. Metaphys. lib. 2. cap. 6. 

"j- OKus (J.EV yoc^ oc'!!ja,)ircov a.hjvaro)) afro^Ei^iv Biyuu tts aTnt^av 

Aristot. Metaphys. lib. 4. cap. 4. 

i h^iovai ^g K, rsro ocno^vKWvoci rms ^i M'^atosvo'txv* scrri 

Tiyuv ov csi* 

lb Ibid, 
I cite these authorities, that I may not be supposed to affect; 
either an uncommon doetrine, or uncommon modes of expres 
sJon. 



6HAP. I. AN II5SAY ON TRlTTET, 2f 

and the brutes are said to be irrationaL But the 
faculty of reason, taking the word in a strict sense, 
is perhaps not more characteristical of the nature of 
man, than his moral faculty, or his imagination, 
or his power of artificial language, or his risibility. 
Reason in this acceptation seems to be a general 
name for all the intellectual powers, as distinguished 
from the sensitive part of our constitution. 2. Every 
thing that is called truth is said to be perceived by 
reason: by reason, we are said to perceive, that 
the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right 
angles ; and we are also said to perceive, by rea- 
son, that it is impossible for the same thing to be, 
and not to be. But these truths are of different 
kinds ; and therefore the energies of understanding, 
to which they are referred, ought to be called by 
different names. 3. The power of invention is 
sometimes ascribed to reason. Locke tells us, that 
it is reason which discovers and arranges the seve- 
ral intermediate proofs in an argument ; an office, 
which according to the common use of words, is to 
be referred not to reason, but to imagination. 4. 
Reason, as implying a faculty not marked by any 
other name, is used by those who are most accurate 
in distinguishing to signify that power of the human 
mind by which we draw inferences, or by which we 
are convinced, that a relation belongs to two ideas, 
on account of our having found, that these ideas bear 
certain relations to other ideas. In a word, it is 
that faculty which enables us, from relations or 
ideas that are known, to investigate such as are 
unknown ; and without which we never could pro- 
ceed in the discovery of truth a single step beyond 
first principles or intuitive axioms. And it is in 
this last sense we are to use the word Reason in the 
course of this inquiry. 

The term Common Sense has also several differ- 
ent significations. 1. Sometimes it seems to be 



28 AK ESSAY ON TRUTH, PART !• 

synonymous with prudence. Thus we say, that 
a man has a large stock of common sense, who is 
quick in perceiving remote consequences, and 
thence instantaneously determines concerning the 
propriety of present conduct. 2. Common Sense, 
in certain instances, seemeth to be confounded 
with some of the powers of taste. We often meet 
with persons of great sagacity in most of the ordi- 
nary affairs of life, and very capable of accurate 
reasoning, who yet, without any bad intention, 
commit the most egregious blunders in regard to 
decorum ; both saying and doing what is offensive 
to their company, and inconsistent with their own 
character : and this we are apt to impute to a defect 
in common sense. But it seems rather to be owing 
to a defect in that kind of sensibility, or sympathy, 
by which we suppose ourselves in the situations of 
others, adopt their sentiments, and in a manner 
perceive their very thoughts : and which is indeed 
the foundation of good breeding^. It is by this 
secret, and sudden, and (to those who are unac- 
quainted with it) inexplicable, communication of 
feelings, that a man is enabled to avoid what 
would appear incongruous or offensive. They who 
are prompted by inclination, or obliged by neces- 
sity, to study the art of recommending themselves 
to others, acquire a wonderful facility in perceiv- 
ing and avoiding all possible ways of giving offence : 
which is a proof, that this kind of sensibility may 
be much improved by habit: although there are, 
no doubt, in respect of this, as well as of all other 
modifications of perception, original and constitu- 
tional differences in the frame of different minds. 
3. Some men are distinguished by an. uncommon 
acuteness in discovering the characters of others : 
they seem to read the soul in the countenance, and 

* See Smithes Theory of moral sentimems. sect. 1. 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 29 

with a single glance to penetrate the deepest re- 
cesses of the heart. In their presence, the hypo- 
crite is detected, notwithstanding his specious 
outside ; the gay effrontery of the coxcomb cannot 
conceal his insignificance ; and the man of merit 
appears conspicuous under all the disguises of an 
unassuming and ungainly modesty. This talent is 
sometimes called Common Sense; but very impro- 
perly. It is far from being common ; it is even 
exceedingly rare; it is to be found in men who are 
not remarkable for any other mental excellence; 
and we often see those who in other respects are 
judicious enough, quite destitute of it. 4. Nei- 
ther ought every common opinion to be referred to 
common sense. Modes in dress, religion, and 
conversation, however absurd in themselves, may 
suit the notions or the taste of a particular people : 
but none of us will say, that it is agreeable to com- 
mon sense, to worship more gods than oncj to 
believe that one and the same body may be in ten 
thousand different places at.the same time^; to like 
a face the better because it is painted, or to dislike 
a person becavise he does not lisp in his pronunci- 
ation. Lastly, The term Common Sense hath in 
modern times been used by philosophers, both 
French and British, to signify that power of the 
mind which perceives truth, or commands belief, 
not by progressive argumentation, but by an instan- 
taneous, instinctive, and irresistible impulse ; de- 
rived neither from education nor from habit, but 
from nature ; acting independently on our will, 
whenever its object is presented, according to an 
established law, and therefore not improperly called 
Sense] ; and acting in a similar manner upon all^ 

* Transubstantiation. 

t For the circumstances that characterise a Sense, see Dr, 
Gerard's Essay on Taste, part 3. sect. 1. Note, 

D 



30 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

or at least upon a great majority of mankind, and 
therefore properly called Common Sense. It is in 
this signification that the term Common Sense is 
used in the present inquiry. 

That there is a real and essential difference be- 
tween these two faculties: that common sense 
cannot be accounted for, by being called the per- 
fection of reason, nor reason, by being resolved 
into common sense, will perhaps appear from the 
following remarks. 1. We are conscious, from 
internal feeling, that the energy of understanding 
which perceives intuitive trvith, is different from 
that other energy which unites a conclusion with 
a first principle, by a gradual chain of intermediate 
relations. We believe the truth of an investigated 
conclusion, because we can assign a reason for our 
belief; we believe an intuitive principle, without 
being able to assign any other reason for our belief 
than this, that, the law of our nature determines us 
to believe it; even as the law of our nature deter- 
mines us to see a colour when presented to our open 
eyes at noon-day. 2. We cannot discern any ne- 
cessary connection between reason and common 
sense : they are indeed generally connected ; but 
we can conceive a being endued with the one who 
is destitute of the other. Nay, we often find, 
that this is in fact the case. In dreams, we some- 
times reason without common sense. Through a 
defect of common sense, we adopt absurd prin- 
ciples ; but supposing our principles true, our rea- 
soning is often unexceptionable. The same thing 
may be observed in certain kinds of madness. A 
man who believes himself made of glass, shall yet 
reason very justly concerning the means of preserv- 
ing his supposed brittleness from flaws and frac- 
tures. Nay, what is still more to the purpose, we 
sometimes meet with persons, whom it would be 
injurious to charge with insanity, who, though de- 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 31 

fective in common sense, have yet, by conversing 
much with polemical writers, improved their rea- 
soning faculty to such a degree, as to puzzle and 
put to silence those who are gready their superiors 
in every other mental endowment. 3. This leads 
us to remark a third difference between these two 
faculties ; namely, that the one is more in our 
power than the other. There are few faculties, 
either of our mind or body, more improvable by 
culture, than that of reasoning; whereas common 
sense, like other instincts, arrives at maturity with 
almost no care of ours. To teach the art of rea- 
soning, or rather of wrangling, is easy; but it is 
impossible to teach common sense to one who wants 
it. You may m.ake him remember a set of first 
principles, and say that he believes them, even as 
you may teach one born blind to speak intelligibly 
of colours and light ; but neither to the one, nor to 
the other, can you by any means communicate the 
peculiar feeling which accompanies the operation of 
that faculty which nature has denied him. A man 
defective in common sense may acquire learning ; 
he may even possess genius to a certain degree : but 
the defect of nature he never can supply : a peculiar 
modification of scepticism, or credulity, or levity, 
will to the end of his life distinguish him from 
other men. — It would evidence a deplorable degree 
of irrationality, if one could not perceive the truth 
of a geometrical axiom ; such instances are uncom- 
mon: but the number of self-evident principles 
cognisable by man is very great, and more vigour 
of mind may be necessary to the perception of 
some, than to that of others. In this respect, 
therefore, there m.ay be great diversities in the 
measure of common sense which different men en- 
joy. -Further, of two men, one of whom, 

though he acknowledges the truth of a first princi- 
ple, is but little affected with it, and is easily in-^ 



3^ AN ESSAY OK TRUTH. PART I. 

duced to become sceptical in regard to it ; while 
the other has a vivid perception of its truth, is 
deeply affected with it, and firmly trusts to his own 
feelings Avithout doubt or hesitation ; I should not 
scruple to say, that the latter possesses the greater 
share of common sense: and in this respect too, 
I presume the minds of different men will be 
found to be very different. These diversities are, 
I think, to be referred, for the most part, to the 
original constitution of the mind, which it is not 
in the power of education to alter. I acknowledge, 
however, that common sense, like other instincts, 
may languish for want of exercise : as in the case 
of a person who, blinded by a false religion, has 
been all his days accustomed to distrust his own 
seniimcnts, and to receive his creed from the mouth 
of a priest. I acknowledge too, that freedom of 
inquiry does generally produce a juster, as well as 
more liberal, turn of thinking, than can ever be ex- 
pected, while men account it damnable even to 
think differently from the established mode. But 
from this we can only infer, that common sense is 
improvable to a certain degree. Or perhaps this . 
only proves, that the dictates of common sense are 
sometimes overruled, and rendered ineffectual, by 
the influence of sophistry and superstition operating 
upon a weak and diffident temper. 4. It deserves 
also to be remarked^, that a distinction extremely 
similar to the present is acknowledged by the vul- 
gar, who speak of mother- vv^it as something differ- 
ent from the deductions of reason, and the refine- 
ments of science. When puzzled with argument, 
they have recourse to their common sense, and ac- 
quiesce in it so steadily, as often to render all the 
arts of the logician ineffectual. ' I am confuted, 
but not convinced,' is an apology som^etim^es offer- 
ed, when one has nothing to oppose to the argu- 
ments of the antagonist, but the original undis- 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 33 

guised feelings of his own mind. This apology is 
indeed very inconsistent with the dignity of philo- 
sophic pride ; which, taking for granted that no- 
thing exceeds the limits of human capacity, pro- 
fesses to confute whatever it cannot believe, and, 
which is still more difficult, to believe whatever it 
cannot confute : but this apology may be perfectly 
consistent with sincerity and candor ; and with that 
principle of which Pope says, that "though no sci- 
ence, it is fairly worth the seven." 

Thus far we have endeavoured to distinguish 
and ascertain the separate provinces of Reason and 
Common Sense. Their connection and mutual de- 
pendence, and the extent of their respective juris- 
dictions, we now proceed more particularly to in- 
vestigate. — I ought perhaps to make an apology for 
these, and some other metaphorical expressions. 
And indeed it were to be wished, that in all mat- 
ters of science, they could be laid aside; for the in- 
discreet use of metaphor has done great harm, by 
leading philosophers to mistake verbal analogies for 
real ones ; and often, too, by giving plausibility to 
nonsense, as well as by disguising and perplexing 
very plain doctrines with an affected pomp of high- 
sounding words and gaudy images. But in the phi- 
losophy of the human mind, it is impossible to keep 
clear of metaphor ; because we cannot speak intel- 
ligibly of immaterial things, without continual allu- 
sions to matter, and its qualities. All I need to 
say further on this head is, that I mean not by 
these metaphors to impose upon the reader ; and 
that I shall do my utmost to prevent their imposing 
upon myself. 

It is> strange to observe, with what reluctance 
some people acknowledge the power of instinct. 
That man is governed by reason, and the brutes by 
instinct, is a lavourite topic with certain philoso- 
phers ; who like other froward children, spurn the 

D 2 



34 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

hand that leads them ; and desh^e, above all things, 
to be left to their own disposal. Were this boast 
founded in truth, it might be supposed to mean lit- 
tle more, than that man is governed by himself, and 
the brutes by their maker'^S But, luckily for man, 
it is not founded in truth, but in ignorance, inatten- 
tion, and self-conceit. Our instincts, as well as our 
rational powers, are far superior, both in number 
and dignity, to those which the brutes enjoy : and it 
w^ere well for us, on manv occasions, if w^e laid our 
systems aside, and w^ere more attentive in observing 
these impulses of nature in which reason has no 
part. Far be it from me to speak with disrespect 
of any of the gifts of God ; every work of his is 
^ood ; but the best things, wdien abused, may be- 
come pernicious. Reason is a noble faculty, and 
when kept wathin its proper sphere, and applied to 
useful purposes, proves a mean of exalting human 
creatures almost to the rank of superior beings. But 
this faculty has been much perverted, often to vile, 
and often to insignificant purposes ; sometimes 
chained like a slave or malefactor, and sometimes 
soaring in forbidden and unknow^n regions. No 
wonder then, if it has been frequently made the in- 
strument of seducing and bewildering mankind, 
and of rendering philosophy contemptible. 

In the science of body, glorious discoveries have 
been made by a right use of reason. When men are 
once satisfied to take things as they find them ; w hen 
ihey believe Nature upon her bare declaration, with- 
out suspecting her of any design to impose upon 
them ; w^hen their utmost ambition is to be her ser- 
vants and humble interpreters ; then, and not till 
then, will philosophy prosper. But of those who 

* And Reason raise o'er Instinct as you can, 
In this 'tis God directs, in that tis man. 

Pope'^ Essay on Man^ Ep. S. 'oer,99\ 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 25 

have applied themselves to the science of Human 
Nature, it may truly be said, (of many of them at 
least), that too much reasoning hath made the«n 
mad. Nature speaks to us by our external, as well 
as by our internal senses ; it is strange, that we 
should believe her in the one case, and not in the 
other ; it is most strange, that supposing her falla- 
cious, we should think ourselves capable of detect- 
ing the cheat. Common Sense tells me, that the 
ground on which I stand is hard, material, and solid^ 
and has a real, separate independent existence. 
Berkeley and Hume tell me, that I am imposed 
vipon in this matter : for that the ground under my 
feet is really an idea in my mind ; that its very es- 
sence consists in being perceived ; and that the same 
instant it ceases to be perceived, it must also cease 
to exist : in a word, that to be^ and to be perceived j 
when predicated of the ground, the sun, the starry 
heavens, or any corporeal object, signify precisely 
the same thing. Now if my common sense be mis- 
taken, who shall ascertain and correct the mistake? 
Our reason, it is said. Are then the inferences of 
reason in this instance clearer, and more decisive, 
than the dictates of common sense ? By no means. I 
still trust to my common sense as before ; and I feel 
that I must do so. But supposing the inferences of 
the one faculty as clear and decisive as the dictates 
of the other, yet who will assure me, that my rea- 
son is less liable to mistake than my common sense? 
And if reason be mistaken, what shall we say ? Is 
this mistake to be rectified by a second reasoning, as 
liable to mistake as the first? — -In a word, we must 
deny the distinction between truth and falsehood, 
adopt universal scepticism, and wander without end 
from one maze of error and uncertainty to another; 
a state of mind so miserable, that Milton makes it 
one of the torments of the damned ; — or else wc 
must suppose, that one of these faculties is naturally 



36 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, PART I. 

of higher authority than the other ; and that either 
reason ought to submit to comixion sense, or com- 
mon sense to reason, whenever a variance happens 
between them. 

It has been said, that every inqviiry in philosophy 
ought to begin with doubt ; — that nothing is to be 
taken for granted, and nothing belit\ed, without 
proof. If this be admitted, it must also be^ admitted, 
that reason is the ultimate judge of truth, to which 
common sense must continually act in subordina- 
tion. But this I cannot admit ; because I am able 
to prove the contrary by the most incontestable evi- 
dence. I am able to prove, that '^ except we be- 
lieve many things without proof, we never can be- 
lieve any thing at all ; for that all sound reasoning 
must ultimately rest on the principles of common 
sense ; that is, on principles intuitively certain, or 
intuitively probable ; and, consequently, that com- 
mon sense is the ultimate judge of truth, to which 
reason n;ust continually act in subordination." 
This I shall prove by a fair induction of particu- 
lars. 



CHAP. II. 

All reasoning terminates in jirst principles* All 
evidence ultimately intuitive* Common Sense the 
Standard of Truth to Man* 

IN this induction, we cannot comprehend all 
sorts of evidence, and modes of reasoning; but we 
shall endeavour to investigate the origin of those* 

* That the induction here given is sufficilsntiy comprehen- 
sive, will appear from tVie following analysis. 

All the objects of the human understanding maybe reduced 
to two classes) viz. Abstract Ideas and Things really existing. 



CHAF.n. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 37 

which are the most important, and of the most ex- 
-tensive influence in science, and common life ; be- 
ginning with the simplest and clearest, and advanc- 
ing gradually to those which are more complicated^ 
or less perspicuous,. 



SECTION L 

Of Mathematical Reasoning. 

THE evidence that takes place in pure mathe- 
matics, produces the highest assurance and cer- 
tainty in the mind of him who attends to, and 
vmderstands it ; for no principles ara admitted into 
this science, but such as are either self-evident, or 
susceptible of demonstration. Should a man refuse 
to believe a demonstrated conclusion, the world 

Of Abstract Ideas and their RelatiojiSj all our knowledge is 
certain^ being founded on Mathematical Evidence, (a)r: 
which comprehends, 1. Intuitive Evidence, and 2. The Evi~ 
dence of strict demonstration. 

We judge of things really existing; either, 1. From our own 
experience; or 2. From the experie7ice of other men. 

1. Judging of Real Existences from our aim experience, we- 
attain either Certainty or Probability. Our knowledge is certain- 
when supported by the evidence, 1. Of Sense External (Z>) 
and Internal (c)t 2. Of Memory (a'); and 3. Of Legiti- 
mate Inferences of the Cause from the Effect (e). 
Our knowledge \s probable ^ when from facts already experi- 
enced, we argue, 1. to facts of the same kind {f) not ex- 
perienced; and, 2. to facts of a similar kind {g) not expe- 
rienced. This knowledge, though called probable often rises 
to moral certainty. 

^. Judging oi Real Existences from the experience of other men^ 
we have the Evidence of their Testimony (h). The 
mode of understanding produced by that evidence is properly 
called Faith; and this faith sometimes amounts to probable opz- 
tiioUy and sometimes rises even to absolute certainty. 

(a) Sect. 1. (b) Sect. 2. (c) Sect. 3. (d) Sect. 4, 

,(e) S€ct. 5. (/) Sect. 6. (g) Sect. r. {k) Sect. B, 



38 AN ESSAY ON TKUTH. PART U 

would impute his obstinacy, either to want of un- 
derstanding, or to want of honesty : for every per- 
son of understanding feels, that by mathematical 
demonstration he must be convinced whether he 
will or not. There are two kinds of mathematical 
demonstration. The first is called direct; and 
takes place, when a conclusion is inferred from pre- 
mises that render it necessarily true : and this per- 
haps is a more perfect, or at least a simpler, kind 
of proofs than than the other ; but both are equally 
convincing. The other kind is called indirect^ 
apagogical^ or ducens ad ahsurdum : and takes 
place when, by supposing a proposition false, we 
are led into an absurdity, which there is no other 
way to avoid, than by supposing the proposition 
true. In this manner it is provecl, that the propo- 
sition is not, and cannot be, false ; , in other words, 
that it is a certain truth. Every step in a mathe- 
matical proof either is self-evident, or must have 
been formerly demonstrated ; and every demonstra- 
tion does finallv resolve itself into intuitive or self- 
evident principles, which it is impossible to prove, 
and equally impossible to disbelieve. These first 
principles constitute the foundation of mathematics : 
if you disprove them, you overturn the whole 
science ; if you refuse to believe them, you can- 
not, consistently with such refusal, acquiesce in any 
mathematical truth v/hatsoever. But you may as 
well attempt to blow out the sun, as to disprove 
these principles: and if you say, that you do not 
believe them^, you will be charged either with 

^ Si quelque opiniastre les nie de la voix, on ne Ten scauroit 
empescher; mais ceia ne luy est pas permis interieurement en 
son esprit, parce que sa lumiere natarelle y repiigne, qui est 
ia partie ou se rapporte la demonstration et le syilogisme, et 
non aux paroles externes. Au moyen de quoy s'il se trouve 
quelqu*un qui ne les puisse entendre, cettuy-la est incapable de 
discipline. 

Diakctique de Boujou, liv. 3. c/6..o. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 39 

falsehood or with folly ; you may as well hold youi* 
hand in the fire, and say that you feel no pain. By 
the law of our nature, we must feel in the one case^ 
and believe in the other ; even as, by the same 
law, we must adhere to the earth, and cannot fall 
headlong to the clouds. 

But who will pretend to prove a mathematical 
axiom. That a whole is greater than a part, or. 
That things equal to one and the same thing are 
equal to one another? Every pro6f must be clearer 
and more evident than the thing to be proved. 
Can you then assume any more evident principle, 
from which the truth of these axioms my be con- 
sequently inferred i" It is impossible ; because they 
are already as evident as any thing can be^. You 

* Different opinions have prevailed concerning the nature of 
these geometrical axioms. Some suppose, that an axiom is 
not self-evident, except it imply an identical proposition; that 
therefore this axiom, It is impossible for the same thing, at the 
same time, to be a7id not to Ae, is the only axiom that can pro- 
perly be called intuitive ; and that all those other propositions 
commonly called axioms, ought to be demonstrated by being 
resolved into this fundamental axiom. But if this could be 
done, which I fear is not possible, mathematical truth woujd 
not be one whit more certain than it is- Those other axioms 
produce absolute certainty, and produce it immediately, with- 
out any process of thought or reasoning that we can discover. 
And if the truth of a proposition be clearly and certainly per- 
ceived by all men without proof, and if no proof whatever 
could make it more clear or more certain, it seems captious 
not to allow that proposition the name of Inttciti've Axiom. — 
Others suppose, that though the demonstration of mathema- 
tical axioms is not absolutely necessary, yet that these axioms 
are susceptible of demonstration, and ought to be demonstrated 
to those who require it. Dr Barrow is of this opinion. So is 
Apollonius ; who, agreeably to it, has attempted a demonstra- 
tion of this axiom, That things equal to one and the same thing are 
equal to one another —But whatever account we make of these 
opinions, they affect not our doctrine. However far the demon- 
stration of axioms may be carried, it must at last terminate in 
&r.£ principle of common sense, if not mmany, which principle 
we must believe without proof whether we will or no. 



40 A^ ESSAY ON TRUTH, PART I. 

may bring the matter to the test of the senses, by 
laying a few halfpence and farthings upon the table; 
but the evidence of sense is not more unquestion- 
able, than that of abstract intuitive truth; and 
therefore the former evidence, though to one igno- 
rant of the meaning of the terms, it might serve to 
explain and illustrate the latter, can never prove it. 
But not to rest any thing on the signification we affix 
to the word proof; and to remove every possibility 
of doubt as to this matter; let us suppQS.^, that the 
evidence of external sense is more unquestionable 
than that of abstract intuitive truth, and that every 
intuitive principle in mathematics may thus be 
brought to the test of sense ; and if we cannot call 
the evidence of sense a proof, let us call it a confir- 
mation of the abstract principle : yet what do we 
gain by this method of illustration ? We only dis- 
cover, that the evidence of abstract intuitive truth 
is resolvable into, or may be illustrated by, the evi- 
dence of sense. And it w^ill be seen in the next 
section, that we believe in the evidence of external 
sense, not because we can prove it to be true, but 
because the law of our nature determines us to be- 
lieve in it without proof. So that in whatever way 
we view this subject, the point we mean to illus- 
trate appears certain, namely, ^^ That all mathema- 
tical truth is founded in certain first principles, 
which common sense or instinct compels us to be- 
lieve without proof, whether we will or not." 

Nor would the foundation of mathematics be in 
the least degree more stable, if these axioms did 
admit of proof, or were all resolvable into one pri- 
mary axiom expressed by an identical proposition. 
As the case now stands, we are absolutely certain 
'^^ their truth; and absolute certainty is all that de- 
monstration can produce. We are convinced by a 
proof, bec^tuse our constitution is such, that we 
must be convinced by it : and we believe a self-evi- 



CHAP. II.- AN ESSAY ON TRI^H. 41 

dent axiom, because our constitution is such that 
we must believe it. You ask, why I believe what 
is self-evident. I may as well ask, why you be- 
lieve what is proved. Neither question admits of 
an answer ; or rather, to both questions the answer 
is the same, namely, because I must believe it. 

Whether our belief in these cases be agreeable 
to the eternal relations and fitnesses of things, and 
such as we should entertain if we were perfectly 
acquainted with all the laws of nature, is a ques- 
tion which no person of a sound mind can have 
any scruple to answer, with the fullest assurance, 
in the affirmative. Certain it is, our constitution 
is so framed, that we must believe to be true, and 
conformable to universal nature, that which is in- 
timated to us, as such, by the original suggestions 
of our own understanding. If these are fallacious, 
it is the Deity who makes them so ; and therefore 
we can never rectify, or even detect, the faliacv. 
But we cannot even suppose them fallacious, with- 
out violating our nature ; nor, if we acknowledge 
a God, without the most absurd and most audacious 
impiety ; for in this supposition it is implied that 
we suppose the Deity a deceiver. Nor can we, 
consistently with such a supposition, acknowledge 
any distinction between truth and falsehood, or 
believe that one inch is less than ten thousand 
miles, or even that we ourselves exist. 



SECT. II. 

Of the Evidence of External Sense* 

ANOTHER class of truths producing convic- 
tion, and absolute certainty, are those wriich de- 
pend upon the evidence of the external senses ; 
Hearing, Seeing, Touching, Tasting, and Smelling^ 

E 



42 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

On this evidence is founded all our knowledge of 
external or material things ; and therefore all con- 
clusions in Natural Philosophy and all those pru- 
dential considerations which regard the preserva- 
tion of our body, as it is liable to be affected by the 
sensible qualities of matter, must finally be resolv- 
ed into this principle, That things are as our senses 
represent them. When I touch a stone, I am 
conscious of a certain sensation, which I call a 
sensation of hardness. But this, sensation is not 
hardness itself, nor any thing like hardness ; it is 
nothing more than a sensation or feeling in my 
mind; accompanied, however, with an irresistible 
belief, that this sensation is excited by the appli- 
cation of an external and hard substance to some 
part of my body. This belief as certainly accom- 
panies the sensation, as the sensation accompanies 
the application of the stone to my organ of sense. 
I believe, with as much assurance, and as unavoid- 
ably, that the external thing exists, and is hard, as 
I believe that I receive, and am conscious of, the 
sensation of hardness ; or, to speak more strictly, 
the sensation which by experience I. know to be the 
sign of my touching a hard body^. Now, why do 
I believe that this sensation is a real sensation, and 
really felt by me ? Because my constitution is such 
that I must believe so. And why do I believe, in 
consequence of my wceiving this sensation, that I 
touch an external object, really existing, material, 
and hard? The answer is the same: the matter is 
incapable of proof: I believe, because I must be- 
lieve. Can I avoid believing, that I really am 
conscious of receiving this sensation? No. Can 
I avoid believing, that the external thing exists, 
and has a certain quality, which fits it, on being 

* See Dr. Reid'^ Inqiiiry into the human mind, chap. S, 
«eet. o. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 4c3 

applied to my hand, to excite a certain feeling or 
sensation in my mind? No; I must believe this, 
whether I will or not. Nor could I divest myself 
of this belief, though my life and future happiness 
depended on the consequence. — To believe our 
senses, therefore, is according to the lav/ of our 
nature ; and we are prompted to this belief by in- 
stinct, or common sense. I am as certain, that at 
present I am in a house, and not in the open air; 
that I see by the light of the sun, and not by the 
light of a candle ; that I feel the ground hard under 
my feet; and that I lean against a real material 
table, — as I can be of the truth of any geometrical 
axiom, or of any demonstrated conclusion ; nay, I 
am as certain of ail this as of my own existence. But 
I cannot prove by argument, that there is such a 
thing as matter in the world, or even that I myself 
exist: and yet I know as assuredly, that I do exist, 
and that there is a real material sun, and a real ma- 
terial world, with mountains, trees, houses, and 
animals, existing separately, and independently ou 
me and my faculties ; I say, I know all this with 
as much assurance of conviction, as the most irre- 
fragable demonstration could produce. Is it unrea- 
sonable to believe in these cases without proof? 
Then, I affirm, it is equally unreasonable to believe 
in any case with proof. Our belief in either case is 
unavoidable, and according to the law of our na- 
ture ; and if it be unreasonable to think, according 
to the law of our nature, it must be equally unrea- 
sonable to adhere to the earth, to be nourished 
with food, or to die when the head is separated 
from the body. It is indeed easy to affirm any 
thing, provided a man can reconcile himself to 
hypocrisy and falsehood. A man may affirm, 
that he sees with the soles of his feet, that he 
believes there is no material world, that he doubts 
of his own existence. He may as well say, that 
he believes one and two to be equal to six, 



4^4 AN ESSAY ON TRUXH. '^PART JE. 

a part to be greater than a whole, a circle to 
be a triangle ; and that it may be possible for tl^ 
same thing, at the same time, to be and not to be. 

But it is said, that our senses do often impose 
upon us ; and that by means of rt:ason we are eii- 
abled to detect the imposture, and to judge rightly 
even where our senses give us wrong information-; 
that therefore our belief in the evidence of sense is 
not instinctive or intuitive, but such as may be 
either confuted or confirmed by reasoning/ We 
shall acknowledge that our senses do often impose 
upon us : but a little attention will convince us, that 
reason, though it may be employed in correcting 
the present fallacious sensation, by referring it to a 
former sensation, received by us, or by other men^ 
is not the ultimate judge in this matter ; for that all 
such reasoning is resolvable into this principle of" 
common sense, That things are what our external 
SL-ns^s represent them. One instance will suffice at 
present for illustration of this point^. 

After having looked a moment at the sun, I see 
a black, or perhaps a luminous, circle swimming 
in the air, apparently at the distance of two or 
three feet from my eyes. That I see such a circle, 
is certain ; that I believe I see it, is certain ; 
that I believe its appearance to be owing to 
some cause, is also certain: — thus far there can 
be no imposture, and there is no supposition of any. 
'Suppose me from this appearance to conclude, that 
a real, solid, tangible or visible round substance, 
of a black or yellow colour, is actually swimming 
in the air before me ; in this 1 should be mistaken* 
How then come I to know that I am mistaken ? I 
may know" it in several w^ays. 1. I stretch out my 
hand to the place w^here the circle seems to be 
floating in the air ; and having felt nothing, I am 
iiistsintly convinced, that there is no tangible sub- 

* See p:art 2.. chap. 1. secU 2i 



CHAP. tU AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, ^^ 

stance in that place. Is this convictioft an inference 
of reason? No; it is a conviction arising from our 
innate propensity to believe, that things are as our 
sensed represent them. By this innate or instinc- 
tive propensity I believe that what I touch exists ; 
by the same propensity I believe, that where I touch 
nothing, there nothing tangible does exist. If in 
the present case I were suspicious of the veracity 
of my senses, I should neither believe nor dis];?^- 
lieve. 2. I turn my eyes towards the opposite 
quarter of the heavens ; and having still observed 
the same circle floating before them, a,nd knowing 
by experience, that the motion of bodies placed at a 
distance from me does not follow or depend on the 
motion of my body, I conclude that the appearance 
is owing, not to a real, external corporeal object, 
but to some disorder in my organ of sight. Here 
reasoning is employed : but where does it termi- 
nate ? It terminates in experience, which I have 
acquired by means of my senses. But if I believed 
them fallacious, if I believed things to be other- 
wise than my senses represent them, I should 
feever acquire experience at all. Or, 3. I apply;, 
first to one man, then to another, and then to a 
third, who all assure me, that they perceive no 
such circle floating in the air, and at the same time 
inform me of the true cause of the appearance. I 
believe their declaration: either because I have had 
experience of their veracity, or because I have an 
innate propensity to credit testimony. To gain 
experience implies a belief in the evidence of sense, 
which reasoning cannot account for ; and a propen- 
sity to credit testimony previous to experience or 
reasoning, is equally unaccountable^.- — So that, al- 
though we acknowledged some of our senses, in 
some instances, deceitful, our detection of the det;eit, 

' * See sect. 8. of this chapter. 
E 2 



46 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I- 

whether by the evidence of our other senses, or 
by a retrospect to our past experience, or by our 
trusting to the testimony of other men, does still 
imply, that we do and must believe our senses 
previously to all reasoning^. 

A human creature born with a propensity to dis- 
believe his senses, would be as useless and helpless 
as if he wanted them. To his own preservation he 
could contribute nothing; and, after ages of beings 
would remain as destitute of knowledge and expe- 
rience, as when he began to be. 

Sometimes we seem to distrust the evidence of 
our senses, when in reality we only doubt whether 
we have that evidence. I may appeal to any man, 
if he were thoroughly convinced that he had really, 
when awake, seen and conversed with a ghost, 
whether any reasoning would convince him^at it 
was a delusion. Reasoning might lead him to 
suspect that he had been dreaming, and therefore 
to doubt whether or not he had the evidence of 
sense ; but if he were assured that he had that evi- 
dence, no arguments whatsoever would shake his 
belief. 



SECT. III. 

Df the Evidence of Internal Sense^ or Conscious- 
ness. 

BY attending to what passes in my mind, I know 
not only that it exists, but also that it exerts 
certain powers of action and perception; which, on 
account either of a diversity in their objects, or 
of a difference in their manner of operating; I con- 
sider as separate and distinct faculties ; and which 
J find it expedient to distinguish by different names, 

S-ce part 2. Chap. 1. sect^ 2- 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 47 

that I may be able to speak of them so as to be un- 
derstood. Thus I am conscious that at one time I 
exert memory, at another time imagination : some- 
times I believe, sometimes I xloubt : the perform- 
ance of certain actions, and the indulgence of certain 
affections, is attended with an agreeable feeling of a 
peculiar kind which I call moral approbation ; dif- 
ferent actions and affections excite the opposite 
feeling, of moral disapprobation : to relieve dis- 
tress, I feel to be meritorious and praise-worthy : 
to pick a pocket, I know to be blam cable, and 
worthy of punishment: I am conscious that some ac- 
tions are in my power, and that others are not ; that 
when I neglect to do what I ought to do, and can do, 
I deserve to be punished ; and that when I act ne- 
cessarily, or, upon unavoidable and irresistible com- 
pulsion, I deserve neither punishment nor blame. 
Of all these sentiments I am as conscious, and as 
certain, as of my own existence. I cannot prove 
that I feel them, neither to myself, nor to others : 
but that I do really feel them, is as evident to me 
as demonstration could make it. I cannot prove, in 
regard to my moral feelings, that they are con- 
formable to any extrinsic and eternal relation of 
things ; but I know that my constitution necessa- 
rily determines me to believe them just and genu- 
ine, even as it determines me to believe that I my- 
self exist, and that things are as my external senses 
represent them. And a sophister could no more 
prove to my conviction, that these feelings are falk- 
xious, or that I have no such feelings, than he could 
prove to my conviction, that two and two may be 
equal to five, or that my friend is as much present 
with me when I think of him at a thousand mil^s 
distance, as when I sit and converse with him in 
the same chamber. An expert logician might per- 
haps puzzle me with words, and propose difficul- 
ties I could not solve : but he might as well at» 



48 AN KSSAY O^ TRUTH. PART I. 

tempt to convince me, that I do not exist, as that I 
do not feel what I am conscious I do feel. And if 
he could induce me to suspect that I may possibly 
be mistaken, what standard of truth could he pro- 
pose to me, more evident, and of higher authority, 
than my own feelings ? Shall I believe his testi- 
mony, and disbelieve my own sensations ? Shall I 
admit his reasons, because I cannot confute them, 
although common sense tells me they are false ? 
Shall I suffer the ambiguities of artificial language 
to prevail against the clear, the intelligible, the ir- 
resistible voice of nature ? — Am I to judge of the 
colouring of a flower by moonshine, or by the light 
of the sun ? Or, because I cannot, by candle-light, 
distinguish green from blue, shall I therefore infer, 
that green and blue are the same ? 

We cannot disbelieve the evidence of internal 
sense, without oifering violence to our nature. And 
if we be led into such disbelief, or distrust, by the 
sophistry of pretended philosophers, we act just as 
wisely as a mariner would do, who should suff'er 
himself to be persuaded that the pole-star is con- 
tinually changing its place, but that the wind always 
blows from the same quarter. Common sense, or 
instinct, which prompts men to trust to their own 
feelings, hath in all ages continued the same : but 
the interests, pursuits, and abilities of philosophers 
are susceptible of endless variety ; and their theo* 
ries vary accordingly. 

Let it not be thought, that these objects and fa^ 
cultiesof internal sensation are things too evanescent 
to be attended to, or that their evidence is too weak 
to produce a steady and well-grounded conviction. 
They are more necessary to our happiness than even 
the powers and objects of external sense ; yea, they 
are no less necessary to our existence. What can 
be of greater consequence to man, than his moral 
sentiments, his reason, his memory^ his imagination^ 



CHAP. LI. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 49 

What more interesting, than to know, whether his 
notions of duty and of truth be the dictates of his 
nature, that is the voice of God, or the positive in- 
stitutions of men ? What is it to which a wise man 
will pay more attention, than to his reason and con- 
science, those divine monitors, by which he is to 
judge even of religion itself, and which he is not at 
liberty to disobey, though an angel from heaven 
should command him? The generality of mankind, 
however ignorant of the received distinctions and 
explications of their internal powers, do yet by their 
conduct declare, that they feel their influence, and 
acknowledge their authenticity. Every instance of 
their being governed by a principle of moral obliga^ 
tion, is a proof of this. They believe an action to 
be lawful in the sight of God, when they are con- 
scious of a sentiment of lawfulness attending the 
performance of it : they believe a certain mode of 
conduct to be incumbent on them in certain circum- 
stances, because a notion of duty arises in their mind, 
when they contemplate that conduct in relation to 
those circumstances. — '^ I ought to be grateful for 
a favour received. Why ? Because my conscience 
tells me so. How do you know that you ought 
to do that of which your conscience enjoins the 
perfor^nance ? I can give ng further reason for it ; 
but IJeel that such is my duty." Here the inves- 
tigation must stop ; or, if carried a little further 
it must return to this point : — ^' I know that I 
ought to do what my conscience enjoins, because 
God is the author of my constitution ; and I obey 
His will, v/hen I act according to the principles 
of my constitution. Why do you obey the will of 
God ? Because it is my duty. How know you. 
that ? Because my conscience tells me so." 

If a man were sceptical in this matter, it v/ould 
not be in the power of argument to cure him. Such 
^man could notbe g^d to have any moral principle 



50 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART !• 

distinct from the hope of reward, the fear of punish- 
ment, or the force of custom. But that there is in 
human nature a moral principle distinct from those 
motives, has been felt and acknowledged by men of 
all ages and nations ; and indeed was never denied 
or doubted, except by a few metaphysicians, who, 
through want either of sense or of honesty, found 
themselves disposed to deny the existence or ques- 
tion the authenticity, of our moral feelings. In the 
celebrated dispute concerning liberty and necessity, 
the advocates for the latter have either maintained, 
that we have no sense of moral liberty ; or, grant- 
ing that we have such a sense, have endeavoured 
to prove it deceitful. Now, if we be conscious, 
that we have a sense of moral liberty, it is certain- 
ly as absurd to argue against the existence of that 
sense, as against the reality of any other matter of 
fact. And if the real existence of that sense be ac- 
knowledged, it cannot be proved to be deceitful by 
any arguments which may not also be applied to 
prove every power of our nature deceitful, and 
consequently, to show that man ought not to be- 
lieve any thing at all. But more of this after- 
wards. 

We have no other direct evidence than this of 
consciousness, or internal sensation, for the exist- 
ence and identity of our own soul^. I exist;— I 

* I say, direct evidence. But there are not wanting other 
irrefragable, though indirect, evidences of the existence of 
the human soul. Such is that which results from a comparison 
pf the known qualities of matter with the phenomena of ani- 
mal motion and thought. The further we carry our inquiries 
into matter, the more we are convinced of its incapacity to be- 
gin motion. And as to thought, and its several modes, if 
we think that they might be produced by any possible configu- 
ration and arrangement of the minute particles of matter, we 
form a supposition as arbitrary, as little warranted by expe- 
rience or evidence of any kind, and as contrary to the rules 
that determine us in all our rational conjectures, as if we were 



CHA'P. II. ^N ESSAY ON TRUTH, 51 

am the same being to-day I was yesterday, and 
twenty years ago ; — this principle, or being, with- 
in me, that thinks and acts, is one permanent and 
mdividual principle, distinct from all other princi- 

to suppose, that diamonds might be produced from the smoke 
of a candle, or that men might grow like mushrooms out of 
the earth. There must then, in all animals, and especially in 
man, be a principle, not only distinct and different from body, 
but in some respects of a quite contrary nature. To ask, whe- 
ther the deity, without uniting- bod.^ -with spirit, could create 
thinking matter, is just such a question, as, whether he could 
create a being essentially active and essentially inactive, capa- 
ble of beginning motion, and at the same time incapable of 
beginning motion: questions, which, if we allow experience 
to be a rational ground of knowledge, we need not scruple to 
answer in the negative. .For these questions, according to the 
best lights that our rational faculties can afford, seem to 
us to refer to the production of an effect as truly impossible, 
as the creation of round squareness, hot cold, black white- 
ness, or true falsehood. 

Yet I am inclined to think, it is not by this argument 
that the generality of mankind are led to acknowledge the 
existence of their own minds. An evidence more direct, 
much more obvious, and not less convincing, every man dis- 
covers in the instinctive suggestions of nature. We perceive 
the existence of our souls by intuition ; and this 1 believe is the 
only way in which the vulgar perceive it. But their conviction 
is not on that account the v/eaker; on the contrary, they 
would account the man mad who should seem to entertain any 
doubts on this subject. 

One of the first thoughts that occur to Milton's Adam, 
when "new waked from soundest sleep," is to inquire after 
tire caus.e of his existence : 

"Thou sun jSaid I, fair light! 
And thou enlightened earth, so fresh and gay ! 
Ye hills, and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains. 
And, ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell. 
Tell, if ye saw, how came 1 thus, how here : 
Not of myself; by some great Maker then, 
In goodness and in power pre-eminent. 
Tell me, how I may know him, how adore, 
From whom I have, that thus I move and live, 
And feel that I am happier than know." 

Paradise Lost^ viii. ^Yo- 



52 AN ESSAY 0N TRUTH. PART I^ 

ples^ beings, or things; — these are dictates of internal 
sensation natural to man, and universally acknow- 
ledged : and they are of so great importance, that 
while we doubt of their truth, we can hardly be in- 
terested in any thing else whatsoever* If I were 
to believe with Mr. Hume, and some others, that 
my mind i& perpetually changing, so as to become 
every different moment a different thing, the re- 
membrance of past, or the anticipation of future 
good or evil, could give me neither pleasure nor 
pain; yea, though I were to believe, that cruel 
death would certainlv overtake me within an hour, 
I should be no more concerned, than if I were told^ 
that a certain elephant, three thousand years hence, 
wovild be sacrificed on the top of Mount Atlas. 
To a man who doubts the individuality or identity 
of his own mind, virtue, truth, reUgion, good and 
evil, hope and fear, are absolutely nothing. 

Metaphysicians have taken some pains to con- 
found our notions on the subject of identity; and, 
by establishing the currency of certain ambiguous 
phrases have succeeded so well, that it is now 
hardly possible for us to explain these dictates of 
our aature according to common sense and com- 

Of the reality of his own life, motion, and existence, it is ob- 
servable that he makes no question ; and indeed it would have 
been strange if he had. But Dryden, in his opera, called 7be 
state iff innocence , would needs attempt an improvement on this 
passage ; and to make surer work, obliges Adam to prove his 
existence by argument, before he allows him to enter upon 
a^ty other inquiry. 

** What am I ? or from whence ? — For that I am 
1 know, because I think : but whence I came, 
Or how this frame of mine began to be, 
What other being can disclose to me ?" 

Act 2. scene 1. 

Dryden, it seems, had read Des Cartes ; but Milton had 
studied nature : Accordingly Dryden speaks like a metaphy- 
sician, Milton like a po^t and philQsopher. 



CHAP. 11. AN ESS AT ON TRUTH. 5^o 

mon experience, in such language as shall be liable 
to no exception. The misfortune is, that many o( 
the words we must use, though extremely well 
understood, are either too simple or too complex 
in their meaning, to admit a logical definition ; so 
that the caviller is never at a loss for an ev^asive re- 
ply to any thing we may advance. But I will take 
it upon me to affirm, that there are hardly any hu- 
man notions more clearly, or more universally 
understood, than those we entertain concerning the 
identity both of ourselves and of other things, 
however difficult we mav sometimes find it to ex- 
press those notions in proper words. And I will 
also venture to affirm, that the sentiments of the 
generality of mankind on this head are grounded 
on such evidence, that he w^ho refuses to be con- 
vinced by it, acts irrationally, and cannot, consis- 
tently with such refusal, believe any thing. 

1. The existence of our own mind, as something 
different and distinct from the body, is universally 
acknowledged. I say universally; having never 
heard of any nation of men upon earth, who did 
not, in their conversation and behaviour, show, by 
the plainest signs, that they made this distinction. 
Nay, so strongly are mankind impressed with it., 
that the rudest barbarians, by their incantations^ 
their funeral solemnities, their traditions concern- 
ing invisible beings, and their hopes and opinions 
of a future state seem to declare, that to the exis- 
tence of the soul the body is not, in their opinion 
necessary. All philosophers, a few Epicureans 
and Pyrrhonists excepted, have acknowledged the 
existence df the soul, as one of the first and most 
unexceptionable principles of human science. Now 
whence could a notion so universal arise ? Let us 
examine our own minds, and we shall find, that it 
could arise from nothing but consciousness, a cer- 
tain irresistible persuasion, that we have a soul disv 



S4 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART T. 

tinct from the body. The evidence of this notion 
is intuitive ; it is the evidence of internal sense* 
Reasoning can neither prove nor disprove it. Des 
Cartes, and his disciple Malebranche, acknow- 
ledge, that the existence of the human soul must be 
believed by all men, even by those who can bring 
themselves to doubt of every thing else. 

Mr. Simon Browne^, a learned and pious clergy- 
tnan of the last age, is perhaps the only person on 
record of whom there is reason to think, that he 
seriously disbelieved the existence of his own soul. 
He imagined, that in consequence of an extraordi- 
nary interposition of divine power, his rational soul 
was gradvially annihilated, and that nothing was 
now left him, but a principle of animal life, which 
he held in common with the brutes. But wherever 
the story of this excellent person is known, his 
unhappy mistake will be imputed to madness, and 
to a depravation of intellect, as real, and as extra- 
ordinary, as if he had disbelieved the existence of 
his body, or the axioms of mathematics. 

2. That the thinking principle, which we be- 
lieve to be within us, continues the same through 
life, is equally self-evident, and equally agreeable 
to the universal consent of mankind. If a man 
Were to speak and act in the evening, as if he be- 
lieved himself to have become a different person 
since the morning, the whole world would pro- 
nounce him in a state of insanity. Were we to at- 
tempt to disbelieve our own indentity, we should 
labour in vain ; we could as easily bring ourselves 
to believe, that it is possible for the same thing to 
be and not to be. But there is no reason to think, 
that this attempt was ever made by any man, not 
even by Mr. Hume himself; though that author, 

* See* his affecting^ story in the Adventurer, vol. 3. No. 
88. 



CHAP II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 55 

in his Treatise of Human Nature, has asserted, yea, 
and proved too, (according to his notions of proof,) 
that the human soul is perpetually changing; being 
nothing but ^^ a bundle of perceptions, that succeed 
each other with inconceivable rapidity, and are (as 
he chooses to express it) in a perpetual flux^/' He 
might as easily, and as decisively, with equal 
credit to his own understanding, and with equal 
advantage to the reader, by a method of reasoning 
no less philosophical, and with the same degree of 
discretion in the use of vv^ords, have attacked the 
axioms of mathematics, and produced a formal and 
serious confutation of them. In explaining the evi- 
dence on which we believe our own identity, it is 
Bot necessary that I should here examine his argu- 
ments against that belief; , first, because the point in 
question is self-evident ; and therefore all reason- 
ing on the other side unphilosophical and irrational! 
and, secondly, because I shall afterwards prove 
that some of Mr. Hume's first principles are incon- 
ceivable and impossible ; and that this very notion 
of his, concerning identity, when fairly stated, is 
absurd and self-contradictory. 

It has been asked, how we can pretend to have 
full evidence of our identity, when of identitv it- 
self we are so far from having a distinct notion, 
that we cannot define it. It might with as good 
reason be asked, how we come to believe that two 
and two are equal to four, or that a circle is differ- 
ent from a triangle, if we cannot define either 
equality or diversity : — why we believe in our own 
existence, since we cannot define existence : — why, 
in a w^ord, the vulgar believe any thing at all, since 
they know nothing about the rules of definition, and 
hardly ever attempt it. In fact, we have number- 
less ideas that admit not of definition, and yet con- 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 438, he. 



56 AN ESSAY ON TRIfTH. i>ART J. 

ceming which we may argue, and believe, and 
know, with the utmost clearness and certainty. To 
define heat or cold, identity or diversity, red, or 
white, an ox or an ass, would puzzle all the logi- 
cians on e?a th ; yet nothing can be clearer, or more 
certain, than many of our judgnnents concerning 
those objects. The rudest of the vulgar know most 
perfectly what they mean, when they say, three 
months ago I was at such a town, and have eveF 
since been at home : and the conviction they have 
of the truth of this proposition is founded on the 
best of evidence, namely, on that of internal sense ;^ 
in which all men, by the law of their nature, do 
and must imf>licitly believe. 

It has been asked, whether this continued con- 
sciousness of our being always the same, does not 
constitute our sameness or identity. No m^ore, I 
should answer, than our perception of truth, light, 
or cold, is the efficient cause of truth, light, or 
cold. Our identity is perceived by consciousness ; 
but consciousness is as different from identity, as 
the understanding is different from truth, as past 
events are different from memory, as colours from 
the power of seeing Consciousness of identity is 
so far fronf constituting Hentity, that it presupposes 
it. An animal might continue the same being, 
and yet not be conscious of its identity; which* is 
probably the case with many of the brute creation ; 
nay, which is often the case with man himself. 
When we sleep w'ithout dreaming, or fall into at 
fainting fit^, or rave in a fever, and often too in 

* The following^ case, which M. Crouzaz gave in to the 
Academy of Sciences, is the most extraordinary instance of 
interrupted consciousness I have ever heard of. A nobleman of 
Lausanne, as he was giving orders to a servant, suddenly lost 
his speech and all his senses. DifFerentremedieswere tried with- 
out effect for six months ; during all wj^ich time he appeared to 
be in a deep sleep, or deliquium, with various symptoms at differ- 
ent periods, which are particularly specified in the narration. 



CHAP. II, AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 5? 

our ordinary dreams, we lose all sense of our iden- 
tity, and yet never conceive that our identity 
has suffered any interruption or change : the 
moment we awake or recover, we are conscious 
that we are the same individual beings we were 
before. 

Many doubts and difficulties have been started 
about our manner of conceiving identity of person 
under a change of substance. Plutarch tells us, 
that in the time of Demetrius Phalereus, the Athe- 
nians still preserved the custom of sending every 
year to Delos the same galley which, about a thou- 
sand years before, had brought Theseus and his 
company from Crete ; and that it then used to be 
a question in the schools, how this could be the 
same vessel, when every part of its materials had 
been changed oftener than once^. It is asked, 
how the tree can be accounted the same, when, 
from a plant of an inch long, it has grown to the 
height of fifty feet ; and how identity can be as- 

At last, after some chirurgical operations, at the end of six 
months his speech and senses were suddenly restored. When 
he recovered, the servant to whom he had been giving orders 
when he was first seized with the distemper, happening to be 
in the room, he asked whether he had executed his commis- 
sion; ](jot being sensible, it seems, that any interval of time, 
except, perhaps a very short one, had elapsed during his ill- 
ness. He lived ten years after, and died of another disease. 
See U Histoire de /' Academie Royale des Sciences, pour V annee, 
1719, p. 28. Van Swieten also relates this story in his com- 
mentaries on Boerhaave's Aphorisms, under the head Apo- 
plexy. I mention it chiefly with a view to the reader's amuse- 
ment; he may consider the evidence, and believe or disbelieve 
as he pleases. But that consciousness may be interrupted by 
a total deliquium, without any change in our notions of our 
own identity, I know by my own experience. I am therefore 
fully persuaded, that the identity of this substance, which 1 
call my soul, may continue even when I am unconscious of it; 
and if for a shorter space, why not for a longer ? 

* Plutarch, in Theseo. Plato, in Phsedone, 

F 2 



58 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PARTI. 

cribed to the human body, since its parts are con- 
tinually changing, so that not one particle of the 
body I now have, belonged to the body I had twen- 
ty years ago. 

It were well, . if metaphysicians would think 
more and speak less on these subjects : they would 
then find, that the difficulties so much complained 
of are rather verbal than real. Was there a single 
Athenian, who did not know in what respects the 
gc\lley of Theseus continued the same, and in w hat 
respects it was changed ? It was the same in res- 
pect of its name, its destination, its shape perhaps, 
and size, and some other particulars ; in respect of 
its substance, it was altogether different. And 
when one party in the schools maintained, that it 
was the same, and the other, that it was not the 
same, all the difference between them was this*^ 
that the one used the word same in one sense, and 
the other in another. 

The identity of vegetables is as easily conceived. 
No man imagines, that the plant of an inch long is 
the same in substance with the tree of fifty feet. 
The latter is by the vulgar supposed to retain all 
the substance of the former, but with the addition 
of an immense quantity of adventitious matter. 
Thus far, and no further, do they suppose the sub- 
stance of the tree to continue the same. They call 
it, however the same tree ; and the same it is, in 
many respects, which to every person of common 
sense are obvious enough, though not easily express- 
ed in unexceptionable language. 

Of the changes made in the human body by attri- 
tion, the vulgar have no notion. They believe the 
substance of a full-grown body to continue the 
same, notwithstanding its being sometimes fatter, 
and sometimes leaner; even as they suppose the 
substance of a wall to be the same before and after 
it is plaistered, or painted. TJrey therefore, do 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 59 

not ascribe to it identity of person, and diversity 
of substance, but a real and proper identity both of 
substance and person. Of the identity of the body 
while increasing in stature, they conceive, nearly 
in the same way, as of the identity of vegetables : 
they know in what respects it continues the same,, 
and in what respects it becomes different; there is 
p-D confusion in their notions ; they never suppose 
it to be different in those respects in which they^ 
know it to be the same. 

V/hen philosophers speak of the identity of the 
human body, they must mean, not that its substance 
is the same, for this they say is perpetually chang- 
ing ; but that it is the same, in respect of its hav- 
ing been all along animated with the same vital and 
thinking principle, distinguished by the same name, 
marked with the same or similar features, placed in 
the same relations of life, &c. — — It must be obvi- 
ous to the intelligent reader, that the difficulties at- 
tending this subject arise not from any ambiguity or 
intricacy in our notions or judgments, *for these 
are extremely clear, but from our way of express- 
ing them : the particulars in which an object con- 
tinues the ame, are often so blended with those in 
which it has become different, ik^t we cannot find 
proper words for marking the distinction, and there- 
fore must have recourse to tedious and obscure 
circumlocutions. 

But whatever judgments we form of the identity 
of corporeal objects,' we cannot from them draw 
^ny inference concerning the identity of our mind. 
We cannot ascribe extension or solidity to the soul, 
far less any increase or diminution of solid or ex- 
tended parts. Here, therefore, there is no ground 
for distinguishing diversity of substance from 
identity of person. Our soul is the very same ber 
jng now it was yesterday, last year, twenty years 
*ago. This is a dictate of common s^nse, an intui- 



60 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART !• 

tive truth, which all mankind, by the law of their 
nature do and must believe, and the contrary of 
which is inconceivable. We have perhaps changed 
many of our principles : we may have acquired many 
new ideas and notions, and lost many of those we 
once had ; but that the substance, essence, or per- 
sonality, of the soul, has suffered any change, in- 
crease, or diminution, v/e never have supposed, 
nor can suppose. New faculties have perhaps ap- 
peared, with which we were formerly unacquaint- 
ed ; but these we cannot conceive to have' affected 
the identity of the soul, >any more than learning to 
write, or to play on a musical instrument, is con- 
ceived to affect the identity of the hand ; or than 
the perception of harmony the first time one 
hears music, is conceived to affect the identity of 
the ear"^. 

But if we perceive our identity by conscious- 
ness, and if the acts of consciousness by which we 
perceive it be interrupted, how can we know that 
our identity is not interrupted? I answer. The law 
of our nature determines us, whether we will or not, 
to believe that we continue the same thinking be- 

* I beg leave to quote a few lines from an excellent poem, 
written by an author, whose genius and virtue were an honour 
to his country, and to human nature : 

** Am I but what I seem, mere flesh and blood? 

A branching channel, and a mazy flood ? 

The purple stream, that through my vessels glides. 

Dull and unconscious flows like common tides. 

The pipes, through which the circling jliices stray. 

Are not that thinking I, no more than they. 

This frame compacted with transcendent skill, 

Of moving joints obedient to my will. 

Nursed from the fruitful glebe like yonder tree. 

Waxes and wastes: I call it mine not me. 

New matter still the mouldering mass sustains ; 

The mansion changed, the tenant still remains, 

And, from the fleeting stream repair'd by food. 

Distinct, as is the sw^immer from the flood." 

AnB V TUN OT, Sqq J^odslefs Collection, vol. 1. p, ISO. 



GHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 61 

ings. The interruption of consciousness, whether 
more or less frequent, makes no change in this be- 
lief. My perception of the visible creation is every 
moment interrupted by the winking of my eyes. 
Am I therefore to believe, that the visible universe, 
which I this moment perceive, is not the same with 
the visibje universe I perceived last moment? 
Then must I also believe, that the existence 
of the universe depends on the motion of my 
eye-lids ; and that the muscles which move them 
have the power of creating and annihilating 
worlds. 

To conclude: That our soul exists, and con- 
tinues through life the same individual being, is a 
dictate of common sense j a truth which the law of 
our nature renders it impossible for us to disbelieve; 
and in regard to which, we cannot suppose our- 
selves in an error, without supposing our faculties 
fallacious, and consequently disclaiming all convic- 
tion, and all certainty, and disavowing the distinc- 
tion between truth and falsehood. 



SECT. IV. 

Of the Evidence of Memorij* 

THE evidence of memory commands our belief 
as effectually as that of sense. I cannot possibly 
doubt, with regard to any of my transactions of 
yesterday which I now remember, whether I per- 
formed them or not. That I dined to-dav, and 
w^as in bed last night, is as certain to me, as that I 
at present see the colour of this paper. If we had 
no memory, knowledge and experience would be 
impossible ; and if we had any tendency to distrust 
our memory, knowledge and experience would be 
of as little use in directing our conduct and senti- 
ments, ,as our dreams now are. Sometimes we 



62 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PARTI* 

doubt, whether in a particular case we exert 
memory or imtagination ; and our belief is suspend- 
ed accordingly : but no sooner do we become con- 
scious, th^it wt re?nember^ than conviction instantly 
takes place ; we say, I am certain it was so, for 
now I remember I was an eye-witness. 

But who is it that teaches the child to believe, 
that yesterday he was punished, because he re- 
members to have been punished yesterday ? Or, 
by what argument will you convince him, that, 
notwithstanding his remembrance, he ought not to 
believe that he was punished yesterday, because 
memory ic fallacious ? The matter depends not on 
education or reasoning. We trust to the evidence 
of memory, because we cannot help trusting to it. 
The same Providence that endued us with memory, 
without any care of ours, endued us also with an 
instinctive propensity to believe in it, previously to 
all reasoning and experience. Nay, all reasoning 
supposes the testimony of memory to be authentic : 
for, without trusting implicitly to this testimony, 
no train of reasoning could be prosecuted ; we could 
never be convinced, that'the conclusion is fair, if 
we did not remember the several steps of the argu- 
ment, and if we were not certain that this remem- 
brance is not fallacious. 

The diversities of memory in different men are 
very remarkable ; and in the same man the remem- 
brance of some things is more lasting, and more 
lively than that of others. Some of the ideas of 
memory seem to decay gradually by length of time ; 
so that there may be some things which I distinctly 
remembered seven years ago, but which at present I 
remember very imperfectly, and which in seven 
years more (if I live so long) I shall have utterly 
forgotten. Hence some have been led to think, 
that the evidence of memory decays gradually, 
from absolute certainty, through all the degrees of 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. &5 

probability, down to that suspense of judgment 
which we call doubt. They seem to have imagined, 
that the vivacity of the idea is in some sort neces- 
Siiry to the establishment of belief. Nay, one au- 
thor^ has gone so far as to say, that belief is nothing 
else but this vivacity of ideas ; as if we never believ- 
ed what we have no lively conception of, nor doubt- 
ed of any thing of which we have a lively conception. 
Bat this doctrine is so absurd, that it hardly deserves 
ft serious confutation. I have a much more lively 
idea of Don Quixote than of the present king of 
Prussia ; and yet I believe that the latter does exist 
and that the former never did. When I v\^as a 
school-boy, I read an abridgment of the history of 
Robinson Crusoe, and believed every word of it ; 
since I grew up, I have read that ingenious work 
at large, and consequently have a much livelier con- 
ception of it than before ; yet now I believe the 
whole to be a fiction. Some months ago I read the 
Treatise of Human Nature^ and have at present a 
pretty clear remembrance of its contents; but I 
shall probably forget the greater part in a short 
time. When this happens, I ought not, according 
to Mr. Hume's theory, to believe that I ever read 
it. As long, however, as my faculties remain un- 
impaired, I fear I shall hardly be able to bring my- 
self to this pitch of scepticism. No, no ; I shall 
ever have good reason to remember my having read 
that book, however imperfect my remembrance 
may be, and however little ground I may have 
to congratulate myself upon my acquaintance with 
it. 

The vivacity of a pergr^ption does not seem neces» 
sary to our belief of the existence of the thing per- 
ceived. I see a town afar off; its visible magnitude 
is not more than an inch square, and therefore my 
perception of it is neither lively nor distinct ; and 

* TreMise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. !♦ 



64/ AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

yet I as certainly believe that town to exist, as if I 
were in the centre of it. I see an object in motion 
on the top of yonder hill ; I cannot discern whether 
it be a man, or a horse, or both ; I therefore exert 
no belief in regard to the class or species of objects 
to which it belongs, but I believe with as much as- 
surance that it exists, as if I saw it distinctly in all 
its parts and dimensions. We have never any 
doubt of the existence of an object so long as we are 
sure that we perceive it by our senses, whether the 
perception be strong or weak, distinct or confused; 
but whenever we begin to doubt, whether the ob- 
ject be perceived by our senses, or whether we only 
imagine that we perceive it, then we likewise begin 
to doubt of its existence. 

These observations are applicable to memory. I 
saw a certain object some years ago ; my remem- 
brance of it is less distinct now than it was the day 
after I saw it ; but I believe the evidence of my me- 
mory as much at present as I did then, in regard to 
all the parts of it which I now am conscious that I 
rememoer. Let a past event be ever so remote in 
time, if I am conscious that I remember it, I still 
believe, with equal assurance, that this event did 
once take place. For what is memory, but a con- 
sciousness of our having formerly done or perceived 
something ? And if it be true, that something is 
perceived or done at this present moment, it will al- 
ways be true, that at this moment that thing was 
perceived or done. The evidence of memory does 
not decay in proportion as the ideas of memory be-^ 
come less lively; as long as we are conscious that we 
remember^ so long w^U thqipvidence attending that 
remembrance produce absolute certainty; and abso- 
lute certainty admits not of degrees. Indeed, as was 
already observed, when remembrance becomes so 
obscure, that we are at a loss to deterr^ine whether 
we remember or only imagine an event, — in this cas^ 



CHAP. ir. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 63 

belief will be suspended till we become certain whe- 
ther we remember or not ; whenever we become 
certain that we do remember, conviction instantly 
arises. 

Some have supposed that the evidence of memory 
is liable to become uncertain, because we are not well 
enough acquainted with the difference between me- 
mory and imagination, to be able at all times to de- 
termine, whether the one or the other be exerted in 
regard to the events or facts we may have occasion 
to contemplate. '* You say, that while you only 
imagine an event, you neither believe nor disbe- 
lieve the existence or reality of it : but that as 
soon as you become conscious that you remember 
it, you instantly believe it to have been real. 
You must then know with certainty the difference 
between memory and imagination, and be able to 
tell by what marks you distinguish the operations 
of the former from those of the latter. If you 
cannot do this, you may mistake the one for the 
other, and think that you imagine when yo ' real- 
ly remember^ and that you remember when you 
only imagine. That belief, therefore, must be 
very precarious and uncertain, which is built up- 
on the evidence of memory, since this evidence 
is so apt to be confounded with the visionary ex- 
hibitions of imagination, which, by your own ac- 
knowledgment, can never constitute a foundation 
for true rational belief." This is an objection, 
according to the metaphysical mode, which, with- 
out consulting experience, is satisfied if a few 
plausible words can be put together in the form of 
an argument: but this objection will have no 
credit with those who acknowledge ultimate in- 
stinctive principles of conviction, and who have 
more faith in their own^feelings than in the subtle- 
ties of logic. 

G 



64 AN £SSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

It is certain the vulgar are not able to give a sa- 
tisfactory account of the difference between memory 
and imagination ; even philosophers have not al- 
ways succeeded in their attempts to illustrate this 
point. Mr. Hume tells us, that ideas of memory 
are distinguished from those of imagination by the 
superior vivacity of the former^. This may some- 
times, but cannot always, be true : for ideas of ima- 
gination are often mistaken for objects of sense ; 
ideas of memory never. The former, therefore, 
must often be more lively than the latter ; for, ac- 
cording to Mr. Hume's own account, all ideas are 
weaker than impressions, or informations of sensef . 
Dreaming persons, lunatics, stage-players, enthusi- 
asts, and all who are agitated by fear, or other vio- 
lent passions, are apt to mistake ideas of imagina- 
tion for real things, and the perception of those 
ideas for real sensation. And the same thing is 
often experienced by persons of strong fancy, and ' 
,great sensibility of temper, at a time when they are 
not troubled with any fits of irrationality or violent 
passions. 

But whatever difficulty we may find in defining 
or describing memory, so as to distinguish it from 
imagination, we are never at any loss aboiit our own 
meaning, when we -speak of remembering and of 
imagining. We all know what it is to remember, 
and what it is to imagine ; a retrospect to former 
experience always attends the exertions of memory; 
but those of imagination are not attended with any 
such retrospect. " I remember to have seen a lion, 
and I can imagine an elephant or centaur, which I 
have never seen :"- — Every body who uses these 
words knows very well what they mean, whether 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 153. , 
t I^i^' P* 41' 



CKAP. !!• AN ESSAY ON TRUTtl. 65 

he be able to explain his meaning by other words 
or not. The truth is, that when we remember, we 
generally know that we remember ; when we ima- 
gine, we generally know that we imagine :j:: such is 
our constitution. We therefore do not suppose the* 
evidence of memory uncertain, notwithstanding 
that we may be at a loss to explain the difference 
between that faculty and imagination : this differ- 
ence is perfectly known to eyery man by experience, 
though perhaps no man can fully express it in words. 
There are many things very familiar to us, which 
we have no words to express. I cannot describe or 
define, either a red colour, which I know to be a 
simple object, or a white colour, which I know to 
be a composition of seven colours : but will any 
one hence infer, that I am ignorant of their differ- 
ence, so as not to know, when I look on ermine* 
whether it be white or red ? Let it not then be 
said, that because we cannot define memory and 
imagination, therefore we are ignorant of their 
difference : every person of a sound mind, knows 
their difference, and can with certainty determine, 
when it is he exerts the one, and when it is he ex* 
erts the other. 



SECT. V. 

Of Reasoning from the^ Effect to the Cause ^ 

I LEFT my chamber an hour ago, and now at 
my return find a book on the table, the size, and 
binding, and contents of which are so remarkable, 

\ In dreams indeed this is not the case ; but the delusions 
of dreaming, notwitstanding our frequent experience of them, 
are never supposed to affect in the least degree either the ve= 
jracity of our faculties, or the certaintjr Qf our knowledge. 
See below, Part II. Chap. 2. Sect. %, 



66 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PARTI. 

that I am certain it was not here when I went out ; 
and that I never saw it before. I ask, who brought 
this book ; and am told, that no body has entered 
my apartment since I left it. That, say I, is im- 
possible. I make a more particular inquiry ; and a 
servant, in whose veracity I can confide, assures me^ 
that he has had his eye on my chamber-door the 
whole day, and that no person has entered it but 
myself only. Then, say I, the person who brought 
this book must have come in by the window or the 
chimney ; for it is impossible that this book could 
have come hither of itself. The servant bids me 
remember, that my chimney is too narrow to admit 
any human creature, and that the window is secured 
on the inside vin such a manner that it cannot be 
opened from without. I examine the walls; it is 
evident no breach has been made ; and there is but 
one door to the apartment. What shall I think ? If 
the servant's report be true, and if the book have 
not been brought by any visible agent, it must have 
come in a miraculous manner, by the interposition 
of some invisible cause ; for still I must repeat, 
that without some cause it could not possibly have 
come hither. 

Let the reader consider the case, and deliberate 
with himself whether I think irrationally, on this 
occasion, or express myself too strongly, when I 
speak of the impossibility of a book appearing in 
my chamber without some cause of its appearance, 
either visible or invisible. I would not willingly 
refer such a phenomenon to a miracle \ but still 
a miracle is possible ; whereas it is absolutely im- 
possible that this could have happened without a 
cause ; at least it seems to me to be as real an im- 
possibility, as that a part should be greater than 
the whole, or that things equal to one and the same 
thing should be unequal to one another. And I 
presume the reader will be of my opinion; for^ in alt 



CHAP. II. AN lESSAY ON TRUTH. 67 

my intercourse with others, and after a careful ex- 
amination of my own mind, I have never found any 
reason to think, that it is possible for a human, or 
for a rational creature, to conceive a thing begin- 
ning to exist, and proceeding from no cause. 

I pronounce it therefore to be an axiom, clear, 
certain, and undeniable, That "whatever beginneth 
to exist, proceedeth from some cause." I cannot 
bring myself to think, that the reverse of any geo- 
metrical axiom is more absurd than the reverse of 
this ; and therefore I am as certain of the truth of 
this, as I can be of the truth of the other ; and 
cannot, without contradicting myself, and doing 
violence to my nature, even attempt to believe 
otherwise. 

Whether this maxim be intuitive or demon- 
strable, may perhaps admit of some dispute ; but 
the determination of that point will not in the least 
affect the truth of the maxim. If it be demon- 
■' strable^ we can then assign a reason for our belief 
of it; if it be intuitive, it is on the same footing 
with other intuitive axioms ; that is, we believe it, 
because the law of our nature renders it impossible 
for us to disbelieve it. 

In proof of this maxim it has been said, that no- 
thing can produce itself. But this truth is not 
more evident than the truth to be« proved, and 
therefore is no proof at all. Nay, this last pro- 
position seems to be only a different, and less 
proper, way of expressing the same thing : — No- 
thing canproduce itself; that is, every thing pro- 
duced, must be produced by some other thing; 
that is, every effect must proceed from a cause 
and that is, (for all effects being posterior to 
their causes, must necessarily have a beginning 
*t every thing beginning to exist proceeds from 
some cause." Other arguments have been offer- 
ed in proof of this maxim, which I think are 

G 2 



68 AN ESSAY ON TRtFTH. PART !• 

sufficiently confuted by Mr. Hume, in his treatise 
of Human Nature^* This maxim therefore ha 
af&rms and I allow, to be not demonstrably certain. 
But he further affirms, that it is not intuitively cer- 
tain; in which I cannot agree with him. '^All 
certainty," says he, ^' arises from the comparison 
of ideas, and from the discovery of such relations 
as are unalterable so long as the ideas continue the 
same : but the only relations! of this kind are re- 
semblance, proportion in quantity and nvimber, de- 
grees of any quality, and contrariety ; none of 
which is implied in the maxim. Whatever begins to 
exists proceeds from some cause: — that maxim there- 
fore is not intuitively certain." — -This argument, if 
it prove any thing at all, would prove, that the 
maxim is not even certain; for we are here told, 
that it has not that character or quality from which 
all certainty arises. 

But if I mistake not, both the premises of this 
syllogism are false. In the first place, I cannot 
admit, that all certainty arises from a comparison 
of ideas. I am certain of the existence of myself 
and of the other things that affect my senses ; I am 
certain, that "whatever is, is;" and yet I cannot 
conceive, that any comparison of ideas is necessaxy 
to produce these convictions in my mind. Perhaps 
I cannot speak of them without using words expres- 
sive of relation ; but the simple act or perception 
of the understanding by which I am conscious of 
them, implies not any comparison that I can dis- 
cover. It it did, then the simplest intuitive truth 

* Book 1. part 3. sect. 3. 

f There are, according to Mr. Hume, seven different kinds 
of philosophical relation, to wit, Resemblance, Identity, Re- 
lations of time and place, Proportion in quantity or number. 
Degrees in any common quality, Contrariety, and Causa- 
tion. And by the word Relatioti he here means that particular 
circumstance in which we may think proper to compare ideas. 
See TrQatm of Human Nature, w/. 1. />. 32. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 69 

requires proof, or illustration at least, before it can 
be acknowledged as truth by the mind ; which I 
presume will not be found warranted by experience. 
Whether others are conscious of making such a 
comparison, before they yield assent to the sim- 
plest intuitive truth, I know not ; but this I know, 
that my mind is often conscious of certainty where 
no such comparison has been made by me. I ac- 
knowledge, indeed, that no certain truth can be- 
come an object of science, till it be expressed in 
words ; that, if expressed in words, it must assume 
the form of a proposition ; and that every proposi- 
tion, being either affirmative or negative, must im- 
ply a comparison of the thing or subject, with that 
quality or circumstance w^hich is affirmed or denied, 
to belong to, or agree with it: and therefore I ac- 
knowledge, that in science all certainty may be 
said to arise from a comparison of ideas. But the 
generality of mankind believe many things as cer- 
tain, which they never thought of expressing in 
words. An ordinary man believes, that himself, 
;his family, his house, and cattle, exist ; but, in or- 
der to produce this belief in his mind, is it neces- 
sary, that he compare those objects with the gen- 
eral idea of existence or non-existence, so as to 
discern their agreement with the one, or disagree- 
ment with the other ? I cannot think it : at least, 
if he has ever made such a comparison, it must 
have been without his knowledge; fori am con- 
vinced, tliat, if we were to ask him thti question, 
he would not understand us. 

Secondly, I apprehend, that Mr. Hume has 
not enumerated all the relations which, when dis- 
covered, give rise to certainty. I am certain, that 
I am the same person to-day I was yesterday. Mr. 
Hume indeed will not allow that this is possible=^. 
I cannot help it ; I am certain notwithstanding ; 

f See Part 2. chap. 2. sect. 1. of'this Essa/. 



'» 



70 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PATlT I.^ 

and I flatter myself, ttiere are not many persons 
in the world who would think this sentiment of 
mine a paradox. I say, then, I am certain, that 
I am the same person to-day I was yesterday. 
Now, the relation expressed in this proposition is 
not resemblance, nor proportion in qua^Rtity and 
number, nor degrees of any common quality, nor 
contrariety: it is a relation different from all these ; 
it is identity or sameness.— That London is con- 
tiguous to the Thames, is a proposition which 
many of the most sensible people in Europe hold 
to be certainly true ; and yet the relation express- 
ed in it, is none of those four which our author 
supposes to be the sole proprietors of certainty. 
For it is not in respect of resemblance, of proportion 
in quantity or number, of contrariety, or of degrees 
in any common quality, that London and the 
Thames are here compared, but purely in respect 
of place or situation. 

Again, that the foregoing maxim is neither in- 
tuitively nor demonstrably certain, our author at- 
tempts to prove from this consideration, that we 
cannot demonstrate the impossibility of the con- 
trary. Nay, the contrary, he says, is not incon- 
ceivable: ^'for we can conceive an object non- 
existent this moment, and existent the next, 
without joining it to the idea of a cause, which is 
an idea altogether distinct and different." But 
this I presume, is not a fair state of the case. Can 
we conceive a thing beginning to exist, and yet 
bring ourselves to think that a cau-se is not neces- 
sary to the production of such a thing? If we can- 
not, (I am sure I cannot), then is the contrary of 
this maxim, when fairly stated, found to be truly 
and properly inconceivable. 

But whether the contrary of this maxim be in- 
conceivable or not, the maxim itself may be intui- 
tively certain. Of intuitive, as well as of demon- 



CHAP* H. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 71 

strable truths, there are different kinds. It is a 
character of some, that their contraries are incon- 
ceivable : such are the axioms of geometry. But 
of many other intuitive truths, the contraries are 
conceivable. " I do feel a hard body ;" — " I da 
not feel a hard body ;" these propositions are equal- 
ly conceivable : the first is true, for I have a pen 
between my fingers; but I cannot prove its truth 
by argument ; therefore its truth is perceived intui- 
tively. 

Thus far we have argued for the sake of argu- 
ment, and opposed metaphysic to metaphysic^, in 
order to prove, that our author's reasoning on the 
present subject is not conclusive. It is now time 
to enter into the merits of the cause, and consider 
the matter philosophically, that is, according to 
fact and experience. And in this way we bring it 
to a very short issue. The point in dispute is^ 
Whether this maxim, "Whatever begins to exist, 
proceeds from some cause," be intuitively cer- 
tain ? That the mind naturally and necessainly 
assents to it without any doubt, and considers its 
contrary as impossible, I have already shewn j the 
maxim, therefore, is certainly true. That it can- 
not, by any argument, or medium of proof, be 
rendered more evident than it is when first appre- 
hended by the mind, is also certain ; for it is of it- 
self as evident as any proposition that can be urged 
in proof it. If, therefore, this maxim be true, 
(as every rational being feels, and acknowledges), 
it is a principle of common sense : we believe it, 
not because we can give a reason, but because, by 
the law of our nature, we must believe it. 

Our opinion of the necessity of a cause to the 
production of every thing that has a beginning, is 
by Mr. Hume, supposed to arise from observation 

* See Part 3« chap. 2. of this Essav, 



t2 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, PART !• 

and experience. It is true, that in our experience 
we have never found any thing beginning to exist, 
and proceeding from no cause; but I imagine it 
will not appear, that our belief of this axiom hath 
experience for its foundation. For let it be re- 
marked, that some children, at a time when their 
experience is very scanty, seem to be as sensible of 
the truth of this axiom, as many, persons arrived 
at maturity. I do not mean, that they ever repeat 
it in the form of a proposition ; or that, if they 
were to hear it repeated in that form, they would 
instantly declare their assent to it ; for a proposi- 
tion can never be rationally assented to, except by 
those who understand the words that compose it: 
but I mean, that these children have a natural pro- 
pensity to inquire after the cause of any effect or 
event that engages their attention; which they 
would not do, if the view of an event or effect did 
not suggest to them, that a cause is necessary to its 
production. Their curiosity in asking the reasons 
and causes of every thing they see and hear, is of- 
ten very remarkable, and rises even to imperti- 
nence ; at least it is called so when one is not pre- 
pared to give them an answer. I have known a 
child to break open his drum, to see if he could 
discover the cause of its extraordinary sound; 
and that at the hazard of rendering the play-thing 
unserviceable, and of being pupished for his indis- 
cretion. If the ardor of this curiosity were al- 
ways proportioned to the extent of a child's expe- 
rience, or to the care his teachers have taken to 
make him attentive to the dependence of effects on 
causes, we might then ascribe it to the power of 
education, or to a habit contracted by experience. 
But every one who has had an opportunity of con- 
versing with children, knows that this is not the 
case; and that their curiosity cannot otherwise be 
accounted for, than by supposing it instinctive, 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 73 

and, like all other instincts, stronger in some minds, 
and weaker in others, independently on experience 
and education, and in consequence of the appoint- 
ment of that Being who hath been pleased to make 
one man differ from another in his intellectual 
accomplishments, as well as in his features, com- 
plexion, and size. Nor let it be imagined, because 
some children are in this respect more curious than 
others, that therefore the belief of this maxim is 
instinctive in some minds only: the maxim may 
be equally believed by all, notwithstanding this 
diversity. For do we not find a similar diversity 
in the genius of different men ? Some men have a 
philosophical turn of mind, and love to investigate 
causes, and to have a reason ready on every occa- 
sion ; others are indifferent as to these matters, be- 
ing ingrossed by studies of another kind. And 
yet I presume it will be found, that the truth of 
this maxim is felt by every man, though perhaps 
many men never thought of putting it in words in 
the form of a proposition. 

We repeat, therefore, that this axiom is one of 
the principles of common sense, which every rati- 
onal mind does and must acknowledge to be true ; 
not because it can be proved, but because the law 
of nature determines us to believe it without proof, 
and to look upon its contrary as perfectly absurd,' 
impossible, and inconceivable. 

The axiom now before us is the foundation of 
the most important argument that ever employed 
human reason ; I mean that which, from the works 
that are created, evinces the eternal power and god- 
head of the Creator. That argument, as far as it 
resolves itself into this axiom, is properly a de- 
monstration, being a clear deduction from a self- 
evident principle ; and therefore no man can pre- 
tend to understand it, without feeling it to be 
tonclusive. So that what the psalmist says of the 



74 An essay on truth. part i. 

atheist is literally true, He is a fool; as really irra- 
tional as if he refused to be convinced by a mathe- 
matical dencionstration. Nay, he is more irrational ; 
because there is no truth demonstrated in mathe- 
matics which so many powers of our nature con- 
spire to ratify, and with which the minds of the 
whole rational creation are so deeply impressed. 
The contemplation of the Divine Nature is the most 
useful and the most ennobling exercise in which 
our faculties can be engaged, and recommends it- 
self to every man of sound judgment and good 
taste, as the most durable and the most perfect en- 
joyment, that can possibly fall to the share of any 
created being. Sceptics may wrangle, and mock- 
ers may blaspheme ; but the pious man knows by 
evidence too sublime for their comprehension, that 
his affections are not misplaced, and that his hopes 
shall not be disappointed ; by evidence which, to 
every sound mind, is fully satisfactory ; but which 
to the hu able and tender-hearted, is altogether 
overwhelming, irresistible, and divine. 

That many of the objects in nature have had a 
beginning, is obvious to our own senses and me- 
mory, or confirmed by unquestionable testimony ; 
these, therefore, according to the axiom we are 
here considering, must be believed to have pro- 
ceeded from a cause adequate at least to the effects 
produced. That the whole sensible universe hath 
to us the appearance of an effect, of something 
which once was not, and which exists not by any 
necessity of nature, but by the arbitrary appoint- 
ment of some powerful and intelligent cause differ- 
ent from and independent on it ; that the 

universe, I say, has this appearance, cannot be de- 
nied : and that it is what it appears to be, an effect ; 
that it had a beginning, and was not from eternity, 
is proved by every sort of evidence the subject will 
admit. And if so, we offer violence to our under- 



CHAP. !!• AN ESSAY OK TRUTH. T5 

Standing, when we attempt to believe that the 
whole universe does not proceed from some cause ; 
and we argue unphilosophically and irrationally, 
when we endeavour to disprove this natural and 
universal suggestion of the human mind. 

It is true, the universe is, as one may say, a 
work sui generis^ altogether singular, and such as 
we cannot properly compare to other works : be- 
cause, indeed, all works are comprehended in it. 
But that natural dictate of the mind by which we 
believe the universe to have proceeded from a 
cause, arises from our considering it as an effect; 
a circumstance in which it is perfectly similar to all 
works whatsoever. The singularity of the effect 
rather- confirms (if that be possible) than weakens 
our belief of the necessity of a cause ; at least it 
makes us more attentive to the cause, and interests 
us more deeply in it. What is the universe, but a 
vast system of works or effects, some of them great, 
and others small; some more and sonie less con- 
siderable t If each of these works, the least as well 
as the greatest, require a cause for its production ; 
is it not in the highest degree absurd and unnatural 
to say, that the whole is not the effect of a cause ?— 
Each link of a great chain must be supported by 
something, but the whole chain may be supported 
by nothing: — Nothing less than an ounce can be 
a counterpoise to an ounce, nothing less than a 
pound to a pound; but the wing of a gnat, or 
nothing at all, may be a sufficient counterpoise to 

ten hundred thousand pounds : Are not these 

assertions too absurd to deserve an answer? 

The reader, if he has the misfortune to be 
acquainted with Mr. Hume's Essay on a par- 
ticular providence and a future state^ will see, 
that these remarks are intended as an answer to 
a very strange argument there advanced against 
the belief of a Deity. *^The universe," we are 



76 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

told, "is an object quite singular and unparalleled; 
no other object that has fallen under our observa- 
tion bears any similarity to it: neither it nor its 
cause can be comprehended under any known spe- 
cies ; and therefore concerning the cause of the 
universe we can form no rational conclusion at all.'* 
' ■ I appeal to any man of sound judgment, whe- 
ther that suggestion of his understanding, which 
prompts him to infer a cause from an effect, has 
any dependence upon a prior operation of his mind, 
by which the effect in question is referred to its ge- 
nus or species. When he pronounces concerning 
any object which he conceives to have had a begin- 
ning, that it must have proceeded from some 
cause, does this judgment necessarily imply any 
comparison of that object with others of a like kind? 
If the new object were in every respect unlike to 
other objects, would this have any influence on his 
judgment? Would he not acknowledge a cause to 
be as necessary for the production of the most un- 
common, as of the most familiar object? — If there- 
fore I believe, that I myself owe my existence to 
some cause, because there is something in my mind 
which necessarily determines me to this belief, I 
must also, for the very same reason, believe, that 
the whole universe (supposed to have had a begin- 
ning) proceeds from some cause. The evidence 
of both is the same. If I believe the first and not 
the second, I believe and disbelieve the same evi- 
dence at the same time ; I believe that the very 
same suggestion of my understanding is both true 
and false. 

Though I were to grant, th^, when an object is 
reducible to no known genus, no rational inference 
can be made concerning its cause ; yet it will not 
follow, that our inferences concerning the cause of 
th^ universe are irrational, supposing it reasonable 
to believe that the universe had a beginning* If 



CHAP. !!• AN ESSx\Y ON TRUTH. 77 

there be in the universe any thing which is reduci- 
ble to no known genus, let it be mentioned: if 
there be any presumption for the existence of such 
a thing, let the foundation of that presumption be 
explained. And, if you please, I shall, for argu- 
ment's sake, admit, that concerning the cause of 
that particular thing, no rational conclusion can be 
formed. But it has never been asserted, that the 
existence of such a thing is either real or probable* 
Mr. Hume only asserts, that the universe itself, ^ 
not any particular thing in the universe, is reduci- 
ble to no known genus. Well then, let me ask^ 
what is the universe ? A word .^ No ; it is a vast 
collection of things. — Are all these things reducible 
to genera? Mr. Hume does not deny it.- — »Each of 
these things, then, if it had a beginning, must also 
have had a cause i It must. — What thing in the 
universe exists uncaused ? Nothing.— Is this a ra- 
tional conclusion? So it seems.-— It seems, then, 
that though it be rational to assign a cause to every 
thing in the universe, yet to assign a cause to the 
universe is not rational! It is shameful thus to tri- 
fle with words. — In fact, this argument of Mr. 
Hume's, so highly admired by its Author, is no 
argument at all. It is founded on a distinction that 
is perfectly inconceivable. Twenty shillings laid 
on a table make a pound : though you take up these 
twenty shillings, yet have you not taken up the 
pound ; you have only taken up twenty shillings. 
If the reader cannot enter into this distinction, he 
will never be able to conceive in what the force of 
Mr. Hume's argument consists. 

If the universe had a beginning, it must have 
had a cause. This is a self evident axiom, or at 
least an undeniable consequence of one. We ne- 
cessarily assent to it ; such is the law of our nature* 
If we deny it, we cannot, without absurdity, be- 
lieve any thing eke whatsoever ; because we at the 



78 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

same time deny the authenticity of ^ those instinc- 
tive suggestions which are the foundation of all 
truth. The Atheist will never be able to elude the 
force of this argunient, till he can prove, that 
every thing in nature exists necessarily, indepen- 
dently, and from eternity. 

If Mr. Hume's argum*ent be found to turn to so 
little account, from the simple consideration of the 
universe, as existing, and as having had a begin- 
ning, it will appear (if possible) still more irrational, 
when we take a view of the universe, and its parts 
as of works curiously adapted to certain ends^ 
Their existence displays the necessity of a power- 
ful cause; their frame proves the cause to be intel- 
ligent, good and wise. The meanest of the works 
of nature (if any of Nature's works may be called 
mean), — the arrangem^ent necessary for the produc- 
tion of the smallest plant, requires in the cause a 
degree of pov^^er, intelligence, and wisdom, which 
infinitely transcends the sublimest exertions of 
human ability. What then shall we say of the 
cause that produces an animal, a rational soul, a 
world, a system of worlds, an universe? Shall we 
say, that infinite power and w^isdom are not neces- 
sary attributes of that universal cause, though they 
be necessary attributes of the cause that produces 
a plant ? Shall we say, that the maker of a plant 
may be acknowledged to be powerful, intelligent, 
and wise ; because there are many other things in 
nature that resemble a plant ; but that we cannot 
rationally acknowledge the maker of the universe 
to be wise, powerful, or intelligent, because there, 
is nothing which the universe resembles, or to 
which it may be compared ? Can the man who ar- 
gues in this manner have any meaning to his words ? 

For an answer to the other cavils thrown out by 
Mr. Hume, in this flimsy essay against the divine 
attributes, the reader is referred to the first part of 
Butler's Analogy of Natural and Revealed Reli- 



CHAP. II. AN E3^AY ON TRUTH. 79 

gion. It needs not be matter of any surprise, that 
we name, on this occasion, a book which was pub- 
lished before Mr. Hume's essay was written.— 
With infidel writers it has long been the fashion, 
(less frequently indeed with this author than with 
many others), to deliver as their own, and as en- 
tirely new, objections against religion, which have 
been repeatedly and unanswerably confuted. This 
piece of craft gives no offence to their disciples ; 
these gentlemen, if they read at all, generally 
choosing to confine their inquiries to one side of 
the controversy : to themselves it is a considerably 
saving in the articles of time and invention. 



SECT. VI. 

Of Probable or Experimental Reasoning* 

I1N all our reasonings from the cause to the 
effect, we proceed on a supposition, and a belief, 
that the course of nature will continue to be in 
time to come, what we experience it to be at pre- 
sent, and remember it to have been in time past. 
This presumption of continuance is the foundation 
of all our judgments concerning future events : and 
this, in many cases, determines our conviction as 
effectually as any proof or demonstration whatso- 
ever : although the conviction arising from it be 
different in kind from what is produced by strict 
demonstration, as well as from those kinds of con- 
viction that attend the evidence of sense, me- 
mory, and abstract intuition. The highest degree 
of conviction in reasoning from causes to effects, is 
called moral certainty ; and the inferior degrees 
result from that species of evidence which is called 
probability or verisimilitude* That all men will 
die i that the sun will rise to-morrow, and the sea 

H 2 



80 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH.* PART U 

ebb and flow; that sleep will continue to refresh, 
and food to nourish us ; that the same articulate 
sounds which to-day communicate the ideas of vir- 
tue and vice, meat and drink, man and beast, will 
to-morrow communicate the same ideas to the same 
persons; — ^no man can doubt, widiout being ac- 
counted a fool. In these, and in all other instances 
where our experience of the past has been equally- 
extensive and uniform, our judgment concerning 
the future amounts to moral certainty : we believe, 
%vith full assurance, or at least without doubt, that 
the same laws of nature which have hitherto opera- 
ted, will continue to operate as long as we foresee 
no cause to interrupt or hinder their operation. 

But no person who attends to his own mind will 
say, that, in these cases, our belief, or conviction, 
or assurance, is the effect of a proof, or of any 
thing like it. If reasoning be at all employed, it is 
only in order to give us a clear view of our past 
experience with regard to the point in question. 

When this view is obtained, reasoning is no 
longer necessary; the mind, by its own innate 
force, and in consequence of an irresistible and in- 
stinctive im.pulse, infers the future from the past 
immediately, and without the intervention of any 
argument. The sea has ebbed and flowed twice 
every day in time past ; therefore, the sea will con- 
tinue to ebb and flow twice every day in the time 
to come, — is by no means a logical deduction of a 
conclusion from premises^. 

When our experience of the past has not been 
uniform nor extensive, our opinion with regard to 
the future falls short of moral certainty; and 
amounts only to a greater or less degree or smaller 
proportion of favourable instances : — we say, such 

* This remark was first made by Mr. Hume. See it illus* 
trated at great length in his Essays, part 2. sect. 4. See alsO- 
Dr, Campbeirs Dissertation on Miracles, p. 13, 14. £d.. 2* 



GHAP. !!• AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 81 

an event will probably happpen, such another is 
wholly improbable. If a medicine has proved 
salutary in one instance, and failed in five, a phy- 
sician would not choose to recommend it, except in 
a desperate case ; and would then consider its suc- 
cess as a thing rather to be wished than expected. 
An equal number of favourable and unfavourable 
instances leave the mind in a state of suspense^ 
without exciting the smallest degree of assurance 
on either side, except, perhaps, what may arise 
from our being more interested on the one side 
than on the other. A physician influenced by such 
evidence, would say, ^'My patient may recover, 
and he may die : I am sorry to say, that the for- 
mer event is not one whit more probable than the 
latter." When the favourable instances exceed 
the unfavourable in number, we begin to think the 
future event in some degree probable ; and more 
or less so, according to the surplus of favourable 
instances. A few favourable instances, without 
any mixture^ of unfavourable ones, render an event 
probable in a pretty high degree : but the favour- 
able experience must be at once extensive and 
uniform, before it can produce moral certainty. 

A man brought into being at maturity, and 
placed in a desert islaiTd, would abandon himself to 
despair, when he first saw the sun set, and the 
night come on ; for he could have no expectation 
that ever the day would be renewed. But he is 
transported with joy, when he again beholds the 
glorious orb appearing in the east, and the heavens 
and the earth illuminated as before. Pie again 
views the declining sun with apprehension, yet not 
without hope ; . the second night is less dismal than 
the first, but is still very vmcom for table on account 
of the weakness of the probability produced by one 
favourable instance. As the instances grow more 
numerous, the probability becomes stronger ^n4 



82 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

Stronger : yet it may be questioned, whether a man 
in these circumstances would ever arrive at so high 
a degree of moral certainty in this matter, as we 
experience ; who know, not only that the sun has 
risen every day since we began to exist, but also 
that the same phenomenon has happened regularly 
for more than five thousand years, without failing 
in a single instance. The judgment of our great 
epic poet appears no where to more advantage than 
in his eighth book ; where Adam relates to the an- 
gel what passed in his mind immediately after his 
awaking into life. The following passage is at 
once transcendently beautiful, and philosophically 
iust: 

** While thus I call'd, and stray'd I knew not whither, 
From where I first drew air, and first beheld 
This happy light, when answer none returned, 
On a green shady bank, profuse of flowers, 
Pensive 1 sat me down j there gentle sleep 
First found me, and with soft oppression seized 
My droused sense ; untroubled, though I thought 
I then loas passing to my former state 
Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve* .** 

Paradise Lost, b. 8. I 283. 

Adam at this time had no experience of sleep, 
and therefore could not, with any probability, 
expect that he was to recover from it. Its ap- 
proaches were attended with feelings similar to those 
he had experienced when awaking from non-exist- 
ence, and would naturally suggest that idea to his 
xnind; and as he had no reason to expect that his 
life was to continue, would intimate the probability 
that he was again upon the verge of an insensible 
state. 

* The beauty of these lines did not escape the elegant and 
judicious Addison ; but that author does not assign th€ reason 
of his approbation. Spect No. 345* 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 83 

Now it is evident, from what has been already 
said^ that the degree of probabihty must be intui- 
tively perceived, or the degree of assurance spon- 
taneously and instinctively excited in the mind, 
upon the bare consideration of the instances on 
either side ; and that without any medium of argu- 
ment to connect the future event with the past 
experience. Reasoning may be employed in bring- 
ing the instances into view ; but when that is done, 
it is no longer necessary. And if you were to 
argue with a man, in order to convince him that a 
certain future event is not so improbable as he 
seems to think, you would only make him take 
notice of some favourable instance which he had 
overlooked, or endeavour to render him suspicious 
of the reality of some of the unfavourable in- 
stances ; leaving it to himself to estimate the de- 
gree of probability. If he continue refractory, 
notwithstanding that his view of the subject is the 
same with yours, he can be reasoned with in no 
other way, than by your appealing to the commou 
sense of mankind. 



SECT. VII. 

Of Analogical Reasoning. 

REASONING from analogy, when traced up 
to its source, will be found in like manner to ter- 
minate in a certain instinctive propensity, implant- 
ed in us by our Maker, which leads us to expect, 
that similar causes in similar circumstances, do 
probably produce, or will probably produce simi- 
lar effects. The probability which this kind of 
evidence is fitted to illustrate, does, like the for- 
mer, admit of a vast variety of degrees, from abso- 
lute doubting up to moral certainty. When the 



84 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

ancient philosopher who was shipwrecked in a 
strange country, discovered certain geometrical 
figures drawn upon the sand by the sea-shore, he 
was naturally led to believe, with a degree of assur- 
ance not inferior to moral certainty, that the coun- 
try was inhabited by men, some of whom were 
men of study and science, like himself. Had 
these figures been less regular, and more like 
the appearance of chance-work, the presumption 
from analogy, of the country being inhabited, 
would have been weaker; and had they been of 
such a nature as left it altogether dubious, whether 
they were the work of accident or of design, the 
evidence would have been too ambiguous to serve 
as a foundation for any opinion. 

In reasoning from analogy, we argue from a 
fact or thing experienced to something similar 
not experienced ; and from our view of the for- 
mer arises an opinion with regard to the lat- 
ter ; which opinion will be tound to imply a great- 
er or less degree of assurance, according as the in- 
stance yr (9m which we argue is more or less similar 
to the instance to which we argue. Why the de- 
gree of our assurance is determined by the degree 
of likeness, we cannot tell ; but we know by expe- 
rience, that this is the case: and by experience 
also we know, that our assurance, such as it is, 
arises immediately in the mind, whenever we fix 
eur attention on the circumstances in which the 
probable event is expected, so as to trace their re- 
semblance to those circumstances in which we have 
known a similar event to take place* A child who 
has been burnt with a red-hot coal, is careful to 
avoid touching the flame of a candle ; for as the 
visible qualities of the latter are like to those of 
the former, he expects, with a very high degree of 
assurance, that the effects produced by the candle 
operating on his fingers, will be similar to those 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 85 

produced by the burning coal. And it deserves to 
to be remarked, that the judgment a child forms 
on these occasions may arise, and often doth arise, 
previous to education and reasoning, and while 
experience is very limited. Knowing that a light- 
ed candle is a dangerous object, he will be shy of 
touching a glow-worm, or a piece of wet fish 
shining in the dark, because of their resemblance 
to the flame of a candle: but as this resemblance is 
but imperfect, his judgment, with regard to the 
consequences of touching these objects, will proba- 
bly be more inclined to doubt, than in the former 
case, where the instances were more similar. 

Those who are acquainted with astronomy, think 
it extremely probable, that the planets are inhabi- 
ted by living creatures, on account of their being in 
all other respects so like to our earth. A man who 
thinks them not much bigger than they appear to 
the eye, never dreams of such a notion ; for to him 
they seem in every respect unlike to our earth : and 
there is no other way of bringing him over to the 
astronomer's opinion, than by explaining to him 
those particulars in which the planets and our earth 
resemble one another. As soon as he comprehends 
these particulars, and this resemblance, his mind of 
its own accord admits the probability of the new 
opinion, without being led to it bj^ any medium of 
proof, connecting the facts he hath experienced with 
other similar and probable facts lying beyond the 
reach of his experience. Such a proof indeed could 
not be given. If he were not convinced of the 
probability by the bare view of the facts, you 
would impute his perseverance in his old opinion, 
either to obstinacy, or to want of common sense ; 
two mental disorders for which logic provides no 
remedy. 



<flr 



S6 . An essay on truth. part i. 

SECT. VIII. 

Of Faith in Testimony. 

THERE are in the world many men, whose 
declaration concerning any fact which they have 
seen, and of which they are competent judges, 
would engage my belief as effectually as the evi- 
dence of my own senses. A metaphysician may tell 
me, that this implicit confidence in testimony is un- 
worthy of a philosopher and a logician, and that my 
faith ought to be more rational. It may be so ; but 
I believe as before notwithstanding. And I find 
that all men have the same confidence in the testi- 
mony of certain persons ; and that if a man should 
refuse to think as other men do in this matter, he 
would be called obstinate, whimsical, narrow-mind- 
ed, and a fool. If, after the experience of so many 
ages, men are still disposed to believe the word of 
an honest man, and find no inconvenience in doing 
so, I must conclude, that it is not only natural, but 
rational, expedient, and manly, to credit such tes- 
timony : and though I were to peruse volumes of 
metaphysic written in proof of the fallibility of tes- 
timony, I should still, like the rest of the world, 
believe credible testimony without fear of inconve- 
nience. I know very well, that testimony is not 
admitted in proof of any doctrine in mathematics, 
because the evidence of that science is quite of a dif- 
ferent kind. But is truth to be found in mathema- 
tics only ? is the geometrician the only person who 
exerts a rational belief r do we never find conviction 
arise in our minds, except when we contemplate an 
intuitive axiom, or run over a mathematical demon- 
stration ? In natural philosophy, a science not in- 
ferior to pure mathematics in the certainty of its 
conclusions, testimony is admitted as a sufficient 



CHAP, II. AM ESSAY ON TRUTH. 87 

proof of many facts. To believe testimony, there- 
fore, is agreeable to nature, to reason, and to sound 
philosophy. 

When we believe the declaration of an honest 
man, in regard to facts of which he has had expe- 
rience, we suppose, that by the view or percep- 
tion of those facts, his senses have been affected in 
the same manner as ours would have been if we had 
been in his place. So that faith in testimony is in 
part resolvable into that conviction which is produ- 
ced bv the evidence of sense : at least, if we did not 
believe our senses, we could not, without absurd- 
ity, believe testimony ; if v/e have any tendency to 
doubt the evidence of sense, we must, in regard to 
testimony, be equally sceptical. Those philoso- 
phers, therefore, who would persuade us to reject 
the evidence of sense, among v/hom are to be rec- 
koned all who deny the existence of matter, are not 
to be considered as mere theorists, whose specula- 
tions are of too abstract a nature to do any harm, but 
as men of the most dangerous principles. Not to 
mention the bad effects of such doctiirie upon science 
in general^, I would only at present call apon die 
reader to attend to its influence upon our religious 
opinions ^nd historical knowledge. Testimony is 
the grand external evidence of Christianity. All 
the miracles wrought by our Saviour, and Darticu- 
larly that great decisive miracle, bis resurrection 
from the dead, were so many appeals to che senses 
of men in proof of his divine mission: andjwhat- 
ever some unthinking cavillers may object, this we 
affirm to be not only the most pf opt r, but the only 
proper kind of external evidence, tliat can be em- 
ployed, consistently with man's free agency and mo- 
ral probation, for establishing a populaY an J univer- 
sal religion among mankind. Nov/, if matter has no 

* See below, part 2. chap. 2, sect. 2. 



-88 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

existence but in our mind, our senses are deceit- 
ful : and if so, St. Thomas must have been deceived 
when he felt, and the rest of the apostles when they 
saw the body of their Lord after his resurrection ; 
and all the facts recorded in history, both sacred and 
civil, were no better than dreams or delusions, with 
which perhaps St. Matthew, St. John, and St. Luke, 
Thucydides, Xenophon, and Cesar were affected, 
but which they had no more ground of believing to 
be real, than I have of believing, in consequence of my 
having dreamed it, that I was last night in Gonstan- 
tinople. Nay, if I admit Berkeley's and Hume's 
theory, of the non-existence of matter, I must be- 
lieve, that what my senses declare to be true, is not 
only not truth, but directly contrary to it. For does 
not this philosophy teach, that what seems to human 
sense to exist, does not exist ; and that what seems 
corporeal is incorporeal ? and are not existence and 
non-existence, materiality and immateriality, con- 
traries ? Now, if men ought to believe the contrary 
of what their senses declare to be true, the evidence 
of all history, oi all testimony, and indeed of all ex- 
ternal perception, is no longer any evidence of the 
reality of the facts warranted by it ; but becomes, 
on the contrary, a proof that those facts did never 
happen. If it be urged, as an objection to this rea- 
soning, that Berkeley was a Christian, notwith- 
standing his scepticism (or paradoxical belief) in 
other matters; I answer, that though he maintain- 
ed the doctrine of the non-existence of body, 
there is no evidence that he either believed or un- 
derstood it : nay, there is positive evidence that he 
did neither ; as I shall have occasion to show after- 
wards^. 

Again, when we believe a man's word, because 
we know him to be honest, or, in other words, have 

* See part 2. chap, 2. sect 2, of this Essay. 



CHAP. II. AN ES3AT ON TRUTH. 89 

had experience of his veracity, all reasoning on such 
testimony is supported by the evidence of expe- 
rience, and by our presumption of the continuance 
of the laws of nature : — the first evidence resolves 
itself into instinctive conviction, and the second is 
itself an instinctive presumption. The principles 
of common sense, therefore, are the foundation 
of all true reasoning concerning testimony of this 
kind. 

It is said bv Mr. Hume, in his Essav on Miracles, 
that our belief of any fact from the report of eye- 
witnesses is derived from no other principle than ex- 
perience ; that is, from our observation of the vera- 
city of human testimony, and of the usual conformi- 
ty of facts to the report of witnesses. This doctrine 
is confuted with great elegance and precision, and 
with invincible force of argument, in Dr. Campbell's 
Dissertation on Miracles. It is, indeed, like most 
of Mr. Hume's capital doctrines, directly repugnant 
to matter of fact : for our credulity is greatest when 
our experience is least : that is, when we are chil- 
dren; and generally grows less and less, in propor- 
tion as our experience becomes more and more ex«, 
tensive : the very contrary of which must happen, 
if Mr. Hume's doctrine were true. 

There is then in a man a propensity to believe 
testimony antecedent to that experience, which Mr. 
Hume supposes, of the conformity of facts to the 
report of witnesses. But there is another sort of ex- 
perience, which may perhaps have some influence in 
determining children to believe in testimony. Man 
is naturally disposed to speak as he thinks ; and most 
men do so: for the most egregious liars speak truth 
a hundred times'^ for once that they utter falsehood. 
It is unnatural for human creatures to falsify ; and 
they never think of departing from the truth, except 

* See Dr. Raid's Inquiry into the Human Mind, p. 474. 



90 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART J. 

they have some end to answer by it. Accordingly 
children, while their native simplicity remains un- 
corrupted, while they have no vice to disguise, no 
punishment to fear, and no artificial scheme to pro- 
mote, do for the most part, if not always, speak as 
they think : and so generally is their veracity ac- 
knowledged, that it has passed into a proverb. That 
children and fools tell truth. Now I am not cer- 
tain, but this their innate propensity to speak truth, 
Hiay in part account for their readiness to believe 
what others speak. They do not suspect the vera- 
city of others, because they are conscious and con- 
fident of their own. However, there is nothing ab- 
surd or unphilosophical in supposing, that they be- 
lieve testimony by one law of their nature, and 
speak truth by another. I seek not therefore to re- 
solve the former principle into the latter ; I mention 
them for the sake only of observing, that whether 
they be allov/ed to be different principles, or differ- 
ent effects of the same principle, our o-eneral doc- 
trine remains equally clear, namely. That all rea- 
soning concerning the evidence of testimony, does 
finally terminate in the principles of common sense. 
This is true, as far as our faith in testimony is re- 
solvable into experimental conviction; because we 
have already shown, that all reasoning from expe- 
rience is resolvable into intuitive principles, either 
of certain or of probable evidence : and surely it is 
no less true, as far as our faith in testim.ony is it- 
self instinctive, and such as cannot be resolved into 
any higher principle. 

Our laith in testimony does often, but not ahvays, 
amount to absolute certainty. That there is such a 
city as Constantinople, such a country as Lapland, 
ana such a mountain as the peak of Teneriffe ; that 
there were su*.h men as Hannibal and Julius Cesar; 
that Eiigland was conquered by William the Nor- 
man | that Charles I. was beheaded ; — of these, and 



CHAP II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 91 

suqh like truths, every person acquainted with his- 
tory and geography accounts himself absolutely cer- 
tain. When a number of persons, not acting in con- 
cert, having no interest to disguise the truth, and suf- 
ficient judges of that to which they bear testimony, 
concur in making the same report, it would be ac- 
counted madness not to believe them. Nay, whea 
a number of witnesses, separately examined, and 
having had no opportunity to concert a plan before- 
hand, do all agree in their declarations, we make no 
scruple of yielding full faith to their testimony, even 
though we have no evidence of their honesty or 
skill ; nay, though they be notorious both for kna- 
very and folly : because the fictions of the human 
mind being infinite, it is impossible that each of 
these witnesses should, by mere accident, devise 
the very same circumstances; if therefore their de- 
clarations concur, this is a certain .proof, that there 
is no fiction in the case, and that they all speak from 
real experience and knowledge. The inference 
we form on these occasions, is supported by argu- 
ments drawn from our experience ; and all argu- 
ments of this sort are resolvable into the principles 
of common sense. In general, it will be found true 
of all our reasonings concerning testimony, that 
they are founded, either mediately or immediately 
upon instinctive conviction or instinctive assent ; so 
that he who has resolved to believe nothing but* 
what he can give a reason for, can never, consist- 
fntly with this resolution, believe anything, either 
as certain or as probable, upon the testimony of 
other men. 



i3 



•93 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. FART Ii<* 

SECT. IX. 

Conclusion of this Chapter. 

THE conclusion to which we are led by the 
above induction, would perhaps be admitted by some 
to be self-evident, or at least to stand in no great 
need of illustration ; to others it might have been 
proved a priori in very few words ; but to the 
greater part of readers, a detail of particulars may 
be necessar}^, in order to produce that steady and 
well-grounded conviction which it is our ambition to 
establish. 

The argument a priori might be comprehended 
in the following words. If there be any creatures in 
human shape, who deny the distinction between truth 
and falsehood, or who are unconscious of that dis- 
tinction, they are far beyond the reach, and below 
the notice of philosophy, and therefore have no con- 
cern in this inquiry. Whoever is sensible of that 
distinction, and is willing to acknowledge it, must 
confess that truth is something fixed and determi- 
nate, depending not upon m.an, but upon the Author 
of nature. The fundamental principles of truth^ 
must therefore rest upon their own evidence, per- 
ceived intuitively by the understanding. If they 
did not, if reasoning were necessary to enforce them, 
they must be exposed to perpetual vicissitude, and 
appear under a different form in every individual, 
according to the peculiar turn and character of his 
ixiasoning powers. Were this the case, no man 
could know, of any proposition, whether it were 
true or false, till after he had heard all the argu- 
$nents that had been urged for and against it ; and, 
even then, he could not know with certainty, whe- •■ 
ther he had heard all that could be urged : future 
disputants might overturn the former arguments^ 



GHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. SS 

and produce new ones, to continue unanswered for 
awhile, and then submit, in their turn, to their suc- 
cessors. Were this the case, there could be no 
such thing as an appeal to the common sense of 
mankind, even as in a state of nature there can be 
no appeal to the law ; every man would be "a law 
unto himself," not in morals only, but in science of 
every kind. 

We sometimes repine at the narrow limits pre« 
scribed to human capacity. Hitherto shalt thou 
come^ and no further^ seems a hard prohibition, 
when applied to the operations of mind. But as, 
in the material world, it is to this prohibition man 
owes his security and existence; so, in the imma- 
terial system, it is to this we owe our dignity, our 
virtue, and our happiness. A beacon blazing from 
a well-known promontory, is a welcome object to 
the bewildered mariner ; who is so far from repin- 
ing that he has not the beneficial light in his own 
keeping, that he is sensible its utility depends on 
its being placed on the firm land, and committed 
to the care of others. 

We have now proved, that " except we believe 
many things without proof, we never can believe 
any thing at all ; for that all sound reasoning must 
ultimately rest on the principles of common sense, 
that is, on principles intuitively certain, or intui- 
tively probable ; and consequently, that common 
sense is the ultimate judge of truth, to which rea* 
son must continually act in subordination^." To 
common sense, therefore, all truth must be con- 
formable ; this is its fixed and invariable standard. 
And whatever contradicts common sense, or is in- 
consistent with that standard, though supported by 
arguments that are deemed unanswerable, and by 

* See part 1. chap. 1. sub. fin*. 



94^ AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I» 

names that are celebrated by all the critics, acade- 
mies, and potentates on earth, is not truth, but 
falsehood. In a word, the dictates of common 
sense are, in respect to human knowledge in gene- 
ral, what the axioms of geometry are in respect to 
mathematics : on the supposition that those axioms 
are false or dubious, all mathematical reasoning 
falls to the ground ; and on the supposition that the 
dictates of common sense are erroneous or deceit- 
ful, all science, truth, and virtue are vain. 

I know not but it may be urged as an objection 
to this doctrine, that, if we grant common sense to 
be the ultimate judge in all disputes, a great part 
of ancient and modern philosophy becomes useless. 
I admit the objection with all my heart, in its full 
force, and with all its consequences; and yet I 
must repeat, that if common sense be supposed 
fallacious, all knowledge is at an end : and that 
even a demonstration of the fallacy would itself be 
fallacious and frivolous. For if the dictates of my 
nature deceive me in one case, how shall I know 
that they do not deceive me in another? When a 
philosopher demonstrates to me, that matter exists 
not but in my mind, and independent on me and 
my faculties, has no existence at all; before I ad- 
mit his demonstration, I mu&t disbelieve all my 
senses, and distrust every principle of belief within 
me : before I admit his demonstration, I must be 
convinced, that I and all mankind are fools: that/ 
our Maker made us such, and from the begin- 
ning intended to impose on us ; and that it was not 
till about the six-thousandth year of the world when 
this imposture was discovered; and then discov- 
ered, not by a divine revelation, not by any rati- 
onal investigation of the laws of nature, not by any 
inference from previous truths of acknowledged 
authority, but by a pretty play of English and 
French words, to which the learned have given the 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 95 

name of metaphysical reasoning. Before I admit 
this pretended demonstration, I must bring myself 
to believe what I find to be incredible ; which 
seems to me not a whit less difficult than to per- 
form what is impossible. And when all this is 
done, if it were possible that all this could be done, 
pray what is science, or. truth, or falsehood? Shall 
I believe nothing? or shall I believe every thing? 
Or am I capable either of belief, or of disbelief ? 
or do I exist ? or is there such a thing as exist- 
ence? 

The end of all science, and indeed of every use- 
ful pursuit, is to make men happier, by improving 
them in wisdom and virtue. I beg leave to ask, 
w^hether the present race of men owe any part of 
their virtue, w^isdom, or happiness, to what meta- 
physicians have written in proof of the non-exist- 
ence of matter, and the necessity of human actions? 
If it be answered, That our happiness, wisdom, and 
virtue, are not at all affected by such controversies, 
then I must affirm, that all such controversies are 
useless. And if it be true, that they have a ten- 
dency to promote wrangling, which of all kinds of 
conversation is the most unpleasant, and the most 
unprofitable ; or vain polemical disquisition, which 
cannot be carried on without waste of time, and 
prostitution of talents j or scepticism, which tends 
to make a^^nan uncomfortable in himself, and un- 
serviceable to others : — then I must affirm, that all 
such controversies are both useless and mischiev- 
ous ; and that the world would be more wise, more 
virtuous, and more happy, without them. — But it 
is said, that they improve the understanding, and 
render it more capable of discovering truth, and 
detecting error. Be it so : — but though bars and 
locks render our houses secure ; and though acute- 
ness of hearing and feeling be a valuable endow- 
ment, it w^ill not follow, that thieves are a public 



96 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART !• 

blessing ; or that the man is entitled to my grati- 
tude, who quickens my touch and hearing, by put- 
ting out my eyes. 

It is further said, that such controversies make 
us sensible of the weakness of human reason, and 
the imperfection of human knowledge ; and for the 
sanguinary principles of bigotry and enthusiasm, 
substitute the milky ones of scepticism and mode- 
ration. And this is conceived to be of prodigious 
emolument to mankind ; because a firm attachment 
to religion, which a man may call bigotry if he- 
pleases, doth often give rise to a persecuting spirit ; 
whfc-reas, a perfect indifference about it, which, 
some men are good-natured enough to call modera- 
tion, is a principle of great good-breeding, and 
gives no sort of disturbance, either in private or 
public life. This is a plea on which our modern 
sceptics plume themselves not a little. And who 
will venture to arraign the virtue or the sagacity of 
these projectors? To accomplish so great effects by 
means so simple; to prevent such dreadful calami- 
ties by so innocent an artifice, — does it not display 
the perfection of benevolence and wisdom f Truly 
I can hardly iinagine such another scheme, except 
perhaps the following. Suppose a physician of the 
Sangrado school, out of zeal for the interest of the 
faculty, and the public good, to prepare a bill to be 
laid before the parliament, in these words: "That 
whereas good health, especially when of long stand- 
ing, has a tendency to prepare the human frame 
for acute and inflammatory distempers, which have 
been knov/n to give extreme pain to the unhappy 
patient, and sometimes even bring him to the grave; 
and whereas the said health, by making us brisk, 
and hearty, and happy, is apt also, on some occa- 
sions, to make us disorderly and licentious, to the 
great detriment of glass windows, lanthorns, and 
watchmen: be it therefore enacted, that all the in- 
habitants of these realms, for the peace of govern- 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 97 

ment, and the repose of the subject, be compelledl. 
on pain of death, to bring their bodies down to a 
consumptive habit ; and that henceforth no person 
presume to walk abroad with a cane, on pain of 
having his head broke with it, and being set in the 
stocks for six months ; nor to walk at all,.exceDt 
with crutches, to be delivered at the public charge 
to each person who makes affidavit, that he is no 

longer able to walk without them." &c He who 

can eradicate conviction from the human heart 
may doubtless prevent all the fatal effects of enthu- 
siasm andbigotP ; and if all human bodies were 
thrown into a colisumption, I believe there would 
be an end of riot, as well as of inflammatory dis- 
eases. Whether the inconveniences, or the reme- 
dies be the greater grievance, might perhaps bear 
a question. Bigotry, enthusiasm, and a persecu- 
ting spirit, are very dangerous and destructive; 
universal scepticism, would, I am sure, be equally 
so, if it were to infect the generality of mankind. 
But what has religion and rational conviction to do 
with either i Nothing more than good health has to 
do with acute distempers, and rebeUious insurrec- 
tions ; or than the peace of government, and tran- 
quiUity of the subject, have to do with a gradual 
decay of our muscular flesh. True religion tends 
to make men great, and good, and happy ; and if 
so, its doctrines can never be too firmly believed, 
ilor held in too high veneration. And if truth be 
at all attainable in philosophy, I cannot see why we 
should scruple to receive it as such, when we have 
attained it ; nor how it can promote candour, 
good-breeding, and humanity, to pretend to doubt 
what we do and must beheve, to profess to main- 
tain doctrines of which we are conscious that they 
shock our understanding, to differ in judgment 
from ail the world except a few metaphysical 
pedants, and to question the evidence of those 



98 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I. 

principles which all other men think the most un- 
questionable, and most sacred. Conviction and 
steadiness of principle, is that which gives dignity, 
uniformity, and spirit, to human conduct, and 
without which our happiness can neither be lasting 
nor sincere. It constitutes, as it were, the vital 
stamina of a great and manly character; whereas, 
scepticism betrays a weak and sickly understand- 
ing, and a levity of mind, from which nothing can 
be expected but inconsistence and folly. In con- 
junction with ill-nature, bad taste, and a hard 
heart, steadiness and strong convt:tion will doubt- 
less make a bad man, and scepticism will make a 
worse: but good-nature, elegant taste, and sensi- 
bility of heart, when united with firmness of mind, 
become doubly respectable and lovely : whereas no 
man can act on the principles of scepticism, with- 
out incurring universal contempt. But to re- 
turn u 

Mathematicians, and natural philosophers, do in 
effect admit the distinction between common sense 
and reason, as illustrated above ; for they are con- 
tent to rest their sciences either on self-evident 
axioms, or on experiments warranted by the 
evidence of external sense. The philosophers 
who treat of the mind, do also sometimes profess 
to found their doctrines on the evidence of sense : 
but this profession is merely verbal ; for whenever 
experience contradicts the system, they question 
the authenticity of that experience, and show you, 
by a most- elaborate investigation, that it is all a 
cheat. For it is easy to write plausibly on any- 
subject, and in vindication of any doctrine, when 
either the indolence of the reader, or the na- 
ture of the composition, gives the writer an oppor- 
tunity to avail himself of the ambiguity of language. 
It is not often that men attend to the operations of 
the mind ; and when they do, it is perhaps with 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, 99 

some metaphysical book in their hands, which 
they read with a resolution to admire or despise, 
according as the fashion or their humour directs 
them. In this situation, or even when they are 
disposed to judge impartially of the writer, their 
attention to what passes in their own minds is but 
superficial, and is very apt to be swayed by a secret 
bias in favour of some theory. And then, it is 
sometimes difficult to distinguish between a natural 
feeling and a prejudice of education ; and our de« 
ference to the opinion of a favourite author makes 
us think it more difficult than it really is, and very 
often leads us to mistake the one for the other. 
Nay, the very act of studying discomposes our 
minds a little, and prevents that free play of the 
faculties from which alone we can judge with accu- 
racy of their real nature.- — Besides, language, be- 
mg originally intended to answer the obvious exi- 
gences of life, and express the qualities of matter, 
becomes metaphorical when applied to the opera- 
tions of mind. Thus we talk metaphorically^ 
when we speak of a v/arm imagination, a sound 
judgment, a tenacious memory, an enlarged under- 
standing; these epithets being originally and pro- 
perly expressive of material qualities. This cir- 
cumstance, however obvious, is not always attended 
to ; and hence we are apt to iriistake verbal analo- 
gies for real ones, and apply the laws of matter to 
the operations of mind ; and thus, by the mere de- 
lusion of words, are led into error before we are 
aware, and while our premises seem to be altogether 
unexceptionable. It is a favourite maxim with 
Locke, as it was with some ancient philosophers, 
that the human soul, previous to education, is like 
a piece of white paper, or tabula rasa; and this 
simile, harmless as it may appear, betrays our 
great modern into several important mistakes. It 
is indeed one of the most unlucky allusions tliat 

K 



100 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I* 

could have been chosen. The human soul, when 
it begins to thmk, is not extended, nor inert, nor 
of a white colour, nor incapable of energy, nor 
wholly unfurnished with ideas, (for, if it think at 
all, it must have some ideas,' according to Locke's 
definition of the word^), nor as susceptible of 
any one impression or character as of any other* 
In vvhat respect then does the human soul re- 
semble a piece of white paper? To this pjiiloso- 
phical conundrum I confess I can give no serious 
answer. — Even when the terms we use are not 
metaphorical, the natural abstruseness of the sub- 
ject makes them appear somewhat mysterious ; and 
we are apt to consider them as of more significancy 
than they really are. Had Mr. Hume told the 
world in plain terms, that virtue is a species of vice, 
darkness a sort of light, and existence a kind of 
non-existencCj I know not what metaphysicians 
might have thought of the discovery; but sure I 
am, no reader of .tolerable understanding would 
have paid him any compliments upon itf. But 

• The word idea serves best to stand for whatsoever is the 
object of the understanding when a man thinks.- -I have usecl 
it to express whatever it is which the mind can be employed 
about in thinking. 

Introduction to Essay on Human Understanding y sect. 8. 

fMr. Hume had said, that the only principles of connexion 
among ideas are three, to wit, resemblance, contiguity in 
time or place, and cause or effect : Inquiry concerning Human 
Understandi7igj sect. 3. It afterwards occurred to him, that 
contrary ideas have a tendency to introduce one another into 
the mind. But instead of adding contrariety to the list of con- 
necting principles, which he ought to have done, and which 
would have been philosophical, he assumes the metaphysician, 
and endeavours to prove his enumeration right, by resolving 
contrariety, as a species, into resemblance and causation, as 
genera; **contrariety " says he, • is a connexion among ideas, 
which may perhaps be considered as a mixture of causation 
and resemblance. Where two objects are contrary, the one 
destroys the other, z. e, is the cause of its annihilation ; and 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 101 

when he says, that contrariety is a mixture of caus- 
ation and resemblance; and, still more, when he 
brings a formal proof of this most sage remark, he 
imposes on us by the solemnity of the expression ; 
we conclude, that " more is meant than meets the 
ear ;'' and begin to fancy, not that the author i^ 
absurd or unintelligible, but that we have not saga- 
city enough to discover his meaning. It were 
tedious to reckon up one half of the improprieties 
and errors which have been introduced into the 
philosophy of human nature, by the indefinite appli- 
cation of the words, idea^ impression^ perception^ 
sensation^ &c. Nay, it is well known, that Berke- 
ley's pretended proof of the non-existence of mat- 
ter, at which common sense stood aghast for many 
years, has no better foundation, than the ambigu- 
ous use of a word. He who considers these things, 
will not be much disposed to overvalue metaphysi- i 
cal truth, (as it is called) when it happens to con- 
tradict any of the natural sentiments of mankind. 

In the laws of nature, when thoroughly under- 
stood, there** appear no contradictions: It is only 
in the systems of philosophers that reason and com- 
mon sense are at variance. No man of common 
sense ever did or could believe, that the horse he 
saw coming towards him at full gallop, was an idea 
in his mind, and nothing else ; no thief was ever 
such a fool as to plead in his own defence, that his 
crime was necessary and unavoidable, for that man 
is bom to pick pockets as the sparks fly upward. 

the idea of the annihilation of an object, implies the idea of 
its former existence." Is it possible to make any sense of 
this? Darkness and light are contrary; the one destroys the 
other, or is the cause of its annihilation ; and the idea of the 
annihilation of darkness implies the idea of its former exist- 
ence. This is given as a proof, that darkness partly resem-- 
bles light, and partly is the cause of light. Indeed I But, O 
91 sic omnia dixissct I This is a harmless absurdity. ' 



102 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, PART lU 

When Reason invades the Rights of Common 
Sense, and presumes to arraign that authority by 
which she herself acts, nonsense and confusion must 
of necessity ensue : science will soon come to have 
neither head nor tail, beginning nor end ; philoso- 
phy will grow contemptible ; and its adherents, far 
from being treated, as in former times, upon the 
footing of conjurors, will be thought by the vulgar, 
and by every man of sense, to be little better thai* 
downright fools. 



PART 11. 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE PRECEDING DOCTRINE, 

WITH INFERENCES. 

BUT now a difficulty occurs, which it is not 
perhaps easy to solve. Granting what is said 
above to be true ; that all legitimate reasoning, 
whether of certain or of probable evidence, does 
finally resolve itself into principles of common 
sense, which we must admit as certain, or as pro- 
bable, upon their own authority; that therefore 
common sense is the foundation and the standard 
of all just reasoning; and that the genuine senti- 
ments of nature are never erroneous: — yet, by 
what criterion shall we know a sentiment of nature 
from a prejudice of education, a dictate of common 
sense from the fallacy of an inveterate opinion ? 
Must every principle be admitted as true, v/hich 
we believe withou-t being able to assign a rea- 
son? then where is our security against prejudice 
and implicit feith ! Or must every principle that 
seems intuitively certain, or intuitively probable, 
be reasoned upon, that we may know whether it be 
really what it seems? then where were our security 
against the abuse so much insisted on, of subject* 



AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 103. 

ing common sense to the test of reasoning! — At 
what point must reason stop in its investigations, 
and the dictates of common sense be admitted as 
decisive and final? 

It is much to be regretted^ that this matter has 
been so little attended to ; for a full and satisfactory 
discussion of it would do more real service to the 
philosophy of human nature, than all the systems 
of logic in the world; would at once exalt pneuma- 
tolbgy to the dignity of science, by settling it on a 
firm and unchangeable foundation ; and would go 
a great way to banish sophistry from science, and 
rid the world of scepticism. This is indeed the 
grand desideratum in logic ; of no less importance' 
to the moral sciences, than the discovery of the 
longitude to navigation. That I shall fully solve 
this difficulty, I am not so vain, nor so ignorant 
as to imagine. But I humbly hope I shall be able 
to throw some light on the subject, and contribute 
a little to facilitate the progress of those who may 
hereafter engage in the same pursuit. If I can 
accomplish even this, I shall do a service to truths 
philosophy, and mankind: if I shouM be thought 
to fail, there is yet something meritorious in the 
attempt. To have set the example, may be of 
consequence. 

I shall endeavour to conduct the reader to the 
conclusion I have come to on this subject, by the 
same steps that led me thither; a method which I 
presume will be more perspicuous, and more satis- 
fying, than if I were first to lay down a theory^ 
and then assign the reasons* By the way, I can*- 
not help expressing a wish, that this method of 
investigation were less uncommon, and that phi- 
losophers would sometimes explain to us, not only 
their discoveries, but also the process of thought 
and experiment, whether accidental or intentional^ 
by which they were led to them. 

k2 



104 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

If the boundary of Reason and Common Sense 
had never been settled in any science, I would 
abandon my present scheme as altogether despe- 
rate. But when I reflect,, that in some of the sci- 
ences it has been long settled, with the utmost 
accuracy, and to universal satisfaction, I conceive 
better hopes; and flatter myself, that it may per- 
haps be possible to fix it even in the philosophy of 
the ibind. The sciences in which this boundary 
has been Jong settled and acknowledged, are, ma- 
thematics, and natural philosophy ; and it is re- 
raarkable, that more truth has been discovered in 
those sciences than in any other. Now, there is not 
a more effectual way of learning the rules of any art, 
than by attending to the practice of those ^ho have 
performed in it most successfully : a maxim which, 
I suppose, is no less applicable to the art of investi- 
gating truth, than to the mechanical and the fine 
arts. Let us see, then, whether, by attending to 
the practice of mathematicians and natural philoso- 
phers, as contrasted with the practice of those who 
have treated of the human mind, we can make any 
discoveries preparatory to the solution of this diffi- 
cultv. 



CHAP. I. 

Confirmation of this Theory from the Practice of 
Mathematicians and Natural Philosophers* 

SECT. 1. 

THAT the distinction between Reason and 
Common Sense, as here explained, is acknow- 
ledged by mathematicians, we have already 
shown"^. They have been wise enough to trust to 

* See part 1. chap 2« sect. 1. 



CHAP, I* AN ESSAY ON TItUTH. 105 

the dictates of common sense, and to take that for 
truth which they were under a necessity of beUev- 
ing, even though it was not in their power to prove 
it by argument. When a mathematician arrives, 
in the course of his reasoning, at a principle which 
he must beUeve, and which is of itself so evident, 
that no arguments could either illustrate or enforce 
it, he then know^s, that his reason can carry hiin 
no further, and he sits down contented : and if he 
can satisfy himself, that the whole investigation is 
fairly conducted, and does indeed terminate in this 
self-evident principle, he is persuaded, that his 
conclusion is true, and cannot possibly be false. 
Whereas the modern sceptics, from a strange con- 
ceit, that the dictates of their understanding are 
fallacious, and that nature has her roguish emis- 
saries in every corner, commissioned and sworn 
to play tricks with poor mortals, cannot find in their 
heart to admit any thing as truth, upon the bare 
authority of their common sense. It is doubtless 
a great advantage to geometry, that its first princi- 
ples are so few, its ideas so distinct, and its lan- 
guage so definite. Yet a captious and paradoxical 
wrangler might, by dint of sophistry, involve the 
principles even of this science in confusion, pro- 
vided he thought it woith his whilef . But geome- 
trical paradoxes would not rouse the attention of 
the public; whereas moral paradoxes, when men 
begin to look about for arguments in vindication of 
impiety, debauchery, and injustice, become won- 
derfully interesting, and can hardly fail of a power- 
ful and numerous patronage. The corrupt judge ; 
the prostituted courtier ; the statesman who enrich- 

•fThe author of the Treatise of Human Nature has actually 
attempted this in his first volume :^ but finding, no doubt, that 
the public would not take any concern in that part of his syS^ 
tem, he has not republished it in his Essays. 



106 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, PART It* 

es himself by the pUmder and blood of his country ; 
the pettifogger, who fattens on the spoils of the 
fatherless and widow ; the oppressor, .who, to pam- 
per his own beastly appetite, abandons the deserv- 
ing peasant to beggary and despair ; the hypocrite^ 
the debauchee, the gamester, the blasphemer, — 
prick up their ears when they are told, that a cele- 
brated author has written a book full of such com- 
fortable doctrines as the following: — That justice 
is not a natural, but an artificial virtue, depending 
wholly on the arbitrary institutions of men"^, and^ 
previous to the establishment of civil society, not 
at all incumbent: — That moral, intellectual, and 
corporeal virtues, are all of the same kindf ; in 
other words, That to want honesty, to want un- 
derstanding, and to want a leg, are equally the 
objects of moral disapprobation ; and therefore that 
it is no more a man's duty to be grateful or pi- 
ous, than to have the genius of Homer, or the 
strength and beauty of Achilles: — That every hu- 
man action is necessary, and could not have been 
different from what it is:j: : — That when we speak 
of power as an attribute of any being, God himself 
not excepted, we use words without meaning :— 
That we can form no idea of power, nor of any 
being endued with any power, much less of one 
endued with infinite power ; and that we can never 
have reason to believe, that any object, or quality 
of an object, exists, of which we cannot form an 
idea^ : — That it is unreasonable to believe God to 
be infinitely wise and good, while there is any evil 
or disorder in the universe ; and that we have no 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p. 37. 

f Ibid. vol. 3. part 3. sect. 4. 

:|: Hume's Essays, vol. 2. p, 91. edit. 1767. 

*Treatis€ of Human Nature, voL 1. p. 284. 302. 432. &<?, 



CHAP. I. ' AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 107 

good reason to think, that the universe proceeds 
from a causef : — That the external material world 
does not exist:): ; and that if the external world be 
once called in doubt as to its existence, we shall be 
at a loss to find arguments by which we may prove 

the Being of God, or any of his attributes*^ : 

That those who believe any thing certainly are 
fools'^^: — That adultery must be practised, if men 
would obtain all the advantages of life; that, if 
generally practised, it would soon cease to be scan- 
dalous ; and that, if practised secretly and frequent- 
ly, it would by degrees come to be thought no 
crime at all"^: — That the question concerning the 
substance of the soul is unintelligiblef : — That 
matter and motion may often be regarded as the 
cause of thought:^ : — That the soul of man becomes 
every different moment a different being ||: so that 
the actions I performed last year, or yesterday, or 
this morning, whether virtuous or vicious, are no 
more imputable to me, than the virtues of Aris- 
tides are imputable to Nero, or the crimes of Nero 
to the Man of Ross. 

I know no geometrical axiom, more pervspicuous, 
more evident, more generally acknowledged, than 
this proposition, (which every man believes of him- 
self,) '^My body exists;" yet this has been denied, 

t Hume's Essay on a Particular Providence and Future 
State. 

:|: Berkeley's and Hume's W ork^ passim, 

f Hume's Essay on the Academical or Sceptical philoso- 
phy, part 1. 

** Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 468. 

* Hume's Essays, vol. 2. p. 409. edit, 1767. 

t Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 434. 

^ Id. ibid. 

IHd. vol. 1. p. 4Sv 



108 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. ^ 

and volumes written to prove it false. Who will 
pretend to set bounds to this spirit of scepticism 
and sophistry ? Where are the principles that can 
stop its progress, when it has already attacked the 
existence both of the human body, and of the hu- 
man soul ? When it denies, and attempts to disprove 
this, I cannot see why it may not as well deny a 
whole to be greater than a part, the radii of the 
same circle to be equal to one another ; and affirm, 
that two right lines do contain a space, and that it 
is possible for the same thing to be and not to be. 

Had our sceptics been consulted when the first 
geometrical institutions were compiled, they would 
have given a strange turn to the face of affairs. 
They would have demanded reasons for the belief of 
every axiom • and as none could have been given, 
would have suspected a fallacy ; and probably (for 
the art of metaphysical book-making is not of diffi- 
cult attainment) have made books to prove a pri- 
ori^ that an axiom, from its very nature cannot be 
true; or at least that we cannot with certainty pro- ' 
nounce whether it is so or not. " Take heed to 
j'ourselves, gentlemen ; you are goin^' to lay the 
foundations of a science ; be careful to lay them as 
deep as possible. Let the love of doubt and dis- 
putation animate you to invincible perseverance. 
You must go deeper ; truth (if there be any such 
thing) loves profundity and darkness. Hitherto 
I see you quite distinctly ; and, let me tell you, 
that is a strong presumption against your method 
of operation* I Vv^ould not give two-pence for that 
philosophy which is obvious and intelligible^. 
Tear up that prejudice, that I may see what sup- 
ports it, I see you cannot move it, and therefore 
am violently disposed to question its stability ; you 
cannot pierce it, therefore who knows but it may 

♦See Treatise of Human Nature^ vol. 1. p. 3. 4* 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 109 

be made of unsound materials ? There Is no trust- 
ing to appearances. It is the glory of a philosopher 
to doubt ; yea, he must doubt, both when he is 
doubtful, and when he is not doubtful"^. Some- 
times, indeed, we philosophers are absolutely 
and necessarily determined to live, and talk, and 
act, like other people, and to believe the exist- 
ence both of ourselves and of others : but to this 
absolute and necessary determination we ought 
not to submit, but in every incident of life still to 
preserve our scepticism. Yes, friend, I tell you, 
we ought still to do what is contrary to that to 
which we are absolutely and necessarily determin- 
ed f. I see you preparing to speak, but I tell 
you once for all, that if you reason or believe any 
thing certainly you are a foolij:. — Good Sir, how 

• '' A true sceptic will be diffident of Tiis philosophical 
doubts, "as well as of his philosophical conviction." 

Treatise of JxirniaJi Naturey vol. 1. p. 474. 

•f ** I dine, 1 play a game at back-gammon, T converse and 
am merry with my friends; and when, after three or four 
hours amusement, I would return to these speculations, they 
appear so cold, so strained, and so ridiculous that I cannot 
find in my heart to enter into them any further. Here then 
1 find myself absolutely and necessarily determined to live, 
,and talk, and act like other people in the common affairs of 
life" Treatise of Hinnaii Nature, W. 1. />. 467. 

'* In all incidents of life we ought still to preserve our scep« 
ticism. If we believe that fire warms, or water refreshes, 
'tis only because it costs us too mucji pains to think otherwise. 
Nay, if we are philosophers, it ought only to be upon scepti- 
cal principles." 

Id. p. 469. 

^ *'If I must be a fool, as all those who reason or believe any 
thing certainly are, my follies shall at least be natural and 
agreeable." Id, p. 468. 

The inaccuracy of the expression makes it difficult to guess, 
whether Mr. Hume m.eans, chat all who believe any thing are 
certainly fools, or that all are fools who believe any thing to 
be certain.— Qvit whether we suppose it to have the former 
meaning, or the latter, /is a thing of small concern. 



110 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

deep must we dig ? Is not this a sure foundation ? 
— I have no reason to think so, as I cannot see 
what is under it. Then we must dig downward 
in iiifiiiitum I — And why not ? You think you are 
arrived at certainty. This very conceit of yours 
is a proof that you have not gone deep enough : 
for you must know, that the understanding, when 
it acts alone, and according to its most general 
principles, entirely subverts itself, and leaves not 
the lowest degree of evidence in any proposition, 
either in philosophy or common lifef. This to 
the illiterate vulgar may seem as great a contra- 
diction or paradox, as if we were to talk of a 
man's jumping down his own throat : but we 
\vhose brains are heated with metaphysic, are not 
startled at paradoxes or contradictions, because we 
are ready to reject all belief and reasoning, and 
can look upon no opinion even as more probable or 
more likely than anotherij:. You are no true phi- 
losopher if you either begin or end your inquiries 
with the belief of any thing. — Well, Sir, you may 
doubt and dispute as long as you please ; but I 
believe that I am come to a sure foundation : here 
therefore will I begin to build, for I am certain 
there can be no danger in trusting to the stability 
of that which is immoveable. — -Certain! Poor 
credulous fool ! Hark ye, sirrah ! you may be 
what the vulgar call an honest man, and a good 
workman; but I am certain (I mean I am in 
doubt whether I may not be certain) that you are 

t Verbatim from Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 464; 
465. 

\ ** The intense view of these manifold contradictions and 
imperfections in human reason, has so wrought upon me, 
and heated my brain, that I am ready to reject all belief and 
reasoning, and can look upon no opinion even as more pro- 
bable or likely than another." 

Treatise of Human Nature^ vol. 1, p. 466, 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTM. Ill 

no philosopher. Philosopher indei^d ! to take a 
thing of such consequence for granted, without 
proof, without examination ! I hold you foar to 
one, that I shall demonstrate a prioi't^ that this 
same edifice of yours will be good for nothing. 
I am inclined to think, that we live in too early a 
period to dicover any principles that will bear 
the examination of the latest posterity ; the world, 
Sir, is not yet arrived at the years of discretion ; 
it will be time enough, two or three thousand 
years hence, for men to begin to dogmatize, and 
affirm, that two and two are four, that a triangle is 
not a square, that the radii of the same circle are 
equal, that a whole is greater than one of its p>?rts; 
that ingratitude and murder are crimes, that bene- 
volence, justice, and fortitude, are virtues ; that 
fire burns, that the sun shines, that human crea- 
tures exist, or that there is such a thing as exist- 
ence. These are points which our posterity, if 
they be wise, will very probably reject^. These 

* "Perhaps we are still in too early an age of the world. 
to dhcovtr any principles which will bear the examination of 
the latest posterity." 

Treatise of Human Nature^ 'vol. 1. p. 473. 

Some perhaps may blame me for laying any stress on de- 
tached sentences, and for understanding these strong expres- 
sions in a strict signification. But it is not my invention to 
take any unfair advantages. I should willingly impute these 
absurd sentences and expressions to the author's inadvertency: 
but th'en I must impute the whole system to the same cause; 
for they imply nothing ^hat is not again" and again inculcated^ 
either directly or indirec .ly in Mr. Hume's writings. It is 
true some of them are self-contradictory, and all of them 
strongly display the futility of this pretended science. But 
who is to blame for this ? They who allow themselves to con- 
tradict matter of fact, ei:her in conversation or wrimig, will 
find it no easy matter to avoid contradicting vhemselves. — 
Again, if this science be so useless, and if its ifnuiility be 
sometimes acknowledged even by Mr. Hume himself, why, 
it may be said, so much zeal in confuting it ? For this plain 
reason, Because it is immoral and pernicious, as well as im» 

I. 



112 , AN isSAY ON TRUTH* PART !!• 

/ 

are points, which if they do not reject, they will 
Jbe arrant fools. This is my judgment, and I am 
certain it is right. I maintain, indeed, that man- 
kind are certain of nothing : hut I maintain, not- 
withstanding, that my own opinions are true. And 
if any body is ill-natured enough to call this a con- 
tradiction, I protest against his judgment, and once i 
for all declare, that I mean not either to contradict 
myself, or to acknowledge myself guilty of self- 
contradiction." 

I am well aware, that mathematical certainty is 
not to be expected in any science but mathematics. 
But I suppose that in every science, some kind of 
certainty is attainable, or something at least suffici- 
ent to command belief : and whether this rests on 
>elf-evident axioms, or on the evidence of sense, 
Memory or testimony, it is still certain to me, if I 
feel that I must believe it. And in every science, 
as well as in geometry, I presume it would be in- 
consistent both with logic and good sense, to take 
thatforanulthnateprtiidple^ -which forces ovr be- 
lief by its own intrinsic evidence^ and which cannot 
by any reasoning be rendered more evident* 

SECT. IL 

IN natural philosophy, the evidence of sense > 
and mathematical evidence go hand in hand ; and 
the one produces conviction as effectually as the 
other. A natural philosopher would make a poor 
figure, should he take it in his head to disbelieve or 
distrust the evidence of his senses. The time was, 
indeed, when matters were on a different footing ; - 

profitable and absurd ; and because, with all its absurdity, it 
has been approved and admired by sciolists, fops, and pro- 
fligates ; and been the occasion of much evil to individuals, 
and of much detriment as well as danger to society. 



CRAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 113 

when physical truths were made out, not by expe^ 
riment and observation, but by dint of syllogism, 
or in the more compendious way of ipse dixit. But 
natural philosophy was then, what the philosophy 
of the mind in the hands of our sceptics is now, a 
system of sophisms, contrived for the vindication 
of false theories. 

That natural philosophers never question the evi- 
dence of sense, nor seek either to disprove or to 
correct it by reasoning, is a position, which to many 
may at first sight seem disputable. I foresee seve- 
ral objections, but shall content myself v/ith ex- 
amining two of the most important. And these I 
shall set in such a light, as will, I hope, show them 
to be inconclusive, and at the same time preclude 
all other objections. 

1. Do we not, (it will be said), both in our phy- 
sical observations, and in the common affairs of life, 
reject the evidence of sight in regard to the magni- 
tude, extension, figure and distance of visible ob- 
jects, and trust to that of touch, which we know to 
be less fallacious? I see two buildings on the top of 
yonder mountain ; they seem to my eyes to be only 
three or four feet asunder, of a round shape, and 
not larger than my two thumbs : but I have been at 
the place, and having ascertained their distance, 
size and figure, by* touch or mensuration, I know, 
that they are square towers, forty yards asunder, 
and fifty feet high. Do I not in this case reject 
the evidence of my sight as fallacious, and trust to 
that of touch ? And what is it but reason that in- 
duces me to do so I How then can it be said, that 
from the evidence of sense there is no appeal to 
reason? — It will, however, be easy to show, that 
in this instance we distrust neither sight nor touch, 
but believe implicitly in both ; not because we can 
confirm their evidence by reasoning, but because 



114 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

the law of our nature will not permit us to disbe- 
lieve their evidence. 

Do you perceive these two objects when you shut 
your eyes ? No. — It is, then, by your sight only 
that you perceive them ? It is.— Does your sight 
perceive any thing in these two objects, but a cer- 
tain visible magnitude, extension and figure ? No. 
Do you believe that these towers really appear 
to your eyes round, three feet asunder, and of the 
size of your thumbs ? Yes, I believe they have 
that appearance to my eyes. — And do you not also 
believe that, to the eyes of all men v/ho see as you 
do, and look at these objects from the place in which 
you now stand, they have the very same appearance? 
I have no reason to think otherwise.— -You be- 
lieve, then, that the visible magnitude, distance and 
shape, of these towers, is what it appears to be t or 
do you think that your eyes see wrong ? Be sure, 
the visible magnitude, figure and distance, are not 
different from what I perceive them to be. — But 
how do you know that what you perceive by sight 
either exists, or is what it appears to be ? Not by 
reasoning, but by instinct. 

Of the visible magnitude, extension, and figure, 
our eyes give us a true perception. It is a law of 
nature, That v/hile visible objects retire from the 
eye, the visible magnitude becomes less as the dis- 
tance becomes greater : and the proportion between 
the increasing distance and the decreasing visible 
magnitude is so well known, that the visible magni- 
tude of any given object placed at a given distance, 
may be ascertained with geometrical exactness. 
The true visible magnitude of objects is therefore 
a fixed and determinate thing ; that is, the visible 
magnitude of the same object, at the same distance, 
is always the same : we believe, thac it is what our 
eyes perceive it to be; if we did not, the art of 
perspective would be impossible ; at least we could 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 115 

not acknowledge, that there Is any truth m that 
art. 

But the object (you repl)/) seems no bigger than 
your thumb ; and you believe it to be fifty feet high; 
how is that sensation reconcileable with this belief? 
You may easily reconcile them, by recollecting, 
(what is obvious enough,) that the object of your 
belief is the tangible magnitude ; that of your sen- 
sation, the visible. The visible magnitude is a per- 
ception of sense ; and we have seen already, that it 
is conceived to be a true, and not a fallacious per- 
ception : the tangible magnitude you do not at pre- 
sent perceive by sense ; you only remember it ; or 
perhaps you infer it from the visible, in consequence 
of your knowledge of the laws of perspective. 
When we see a lump of salt at a little distance, we 
may perhaps take it for sugar. Is this a false sen- 
sation? is it a proof, either that our taste, or that 
our sight is fallacious ? No : this is only an erro- 
neous opinion formed upon a true sensation. A 
false sensation we cannot suppose it to be, without 
supposing that tastes are perceived by the eyes. 
And you cannot believe your opinion of the mag- 
nitude of these towers to be a false sensation, ex- 
cept you believe that tangible qualities are per- 
ceived by sight. When we speak of the magnitude 
of objects, we generally mean the tangible magni- 
tude, which is no more an object of sight than of 
hearing. For it is demonstrated in optics, that a 
person endued with sight, but so fettered from his 
birth as to have no opportunity of gaining expe- 
rience by touch, could never form any distinct 
notion of the distance, extension, magnitude, or 
figure of any thing. These are perceptions, not ot 
sight, but of touch. We judge of them indeed from 
the visible appearance; but it is only in consequence 
of our having found, that certain changes in the visible 
appearance do always accompany^ and intimate, cer- 

L 2 



116 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II, 

tain changes in the tangible distance, magnitude, 
and figure. Visible magnitude, and tangible mag- 
nitude are quite different things; the former changes 
with every change of distance, the latter is always 
the same ; the one is perceived by one sense, the 
other by another. So that when you say, I see a 
tower two miles off, which appears no bigger than 
my thumb, and yet I believe it to be a thousand 
times bigger than my whole body ; — your sensa- 
tion is perfectly consistent with your belief: the 
contrariety is merely verbal ; for the word bigger^ 
in the first clause refers to visible, in the second, to 
tangible magnitude. There is here no more real 
inconsistency than if you v/ere to say, I see a coni- 
cal body of a white colour, and I believe it to have 
a sweet taste. If there be any difficulty in con- 
ceiving this, it must arise from our being more apt 
to confound the objects of sight and touch, than 
those of any other two senses. As the knowledge 
of tangible qualities is of more consequence to our 
happiness and preservation, than the knowledge of 
visible appearances which in themselves can do 
neither good nor harm ; we fix our principal atten- 
tion on the tangible magnitude, the visible appear- 
ance serving only as a sign by which we judge of 
it : the mind makes an instantaneous transition 
from the visible appearance, which it overlooks, to 
the tangible quality, on which it fixeth its attention; 
and the sign is as little attended to, in comparison 
of the thing signified, as the shape of written cha- 
racters, or the sound of articulate voices, in com- 
parison of the ideas which the writer or speaker 
means to communicate. 

But all men (it may be said) do not thus distin- 
guish between visible and tangible magnitude. 
Many philosophers have affirmed, and the vulgar 
still believe, that magnitude is a sensation both of 
sight and touch : those people, therefore, when sen- 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, 117 

sible of the diminished visible appearance of the 
distant object, must suppose, that the perception 
they receive by sight of the magnitude of that ob- 
ject, is really a false perception ; because different 
from what they should receive by touch, or even 
by sight, if the object were within three yards of 
their eyes. At any rate, they must suppose, that 
what their sight perceives concerning magnitudes, is 
not always to be depended on ; and therefor<j that 
their sight is a fallacious faculty. 

Let this objection have as much weight as you 
please ; yet will it not prove, that the evidence of 
sense may be either confirmed or confuted by rea- 
son. Suppose then I perceive real magnitude, both 
by sight and touch. I observe, that what my sight 
perceives of magnitude is not always consistent, 
either with itsslf, or with the sensations received by 
touch from the same object. The same man, with- 
in the same hour, appears six feet high, and not one 
foot high, according as I view him at the distance 
of two yards or of two miles. What is to be done 
in this case ^ both sensations I cannot believe ? for 
that the man really changes his stature, is altogether 
4ncredible. I believe his stature to be always the 
same ; and I find, that to my touch it always ap- 
pears the same ; and that, when I look at the man 
at the distance of a few feet, my visible perception 
of his magnitude coincides with my tangible per- 
ception. I must therefore believe, that what my 
sight intimates concerning the magnitude of distant 
objects is not to be depended on. But whence 
arises this belief ? , Can I prove, by argument, that 
the man does not change his stature ? that the sense, 
whose perceptions are all consistent, is a true, and 
not a fallacious faculty ? or that a sense is not falla- 
cious, v/hen its perceptions coincide with the per- 
ceptions of another sense ? No, I can prove none of 
these points. It is instinct, and not reason, that de- 



118 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART IJ. 

termmes me to believe my touch ; it is instinct, and 
not reason, that determines me to believe, that visi- 
ble sensations, when consistent with tangible, are 
not fallacious ; and it is either instinct, or reasoning 
founded on experience, (that is, on the evidence of 
sense), that determines me to believe the man's 
stature a permanent, and not a changeable thing. 
The evidence of sense is therefore decisive ; from 
it there is no appeal to reason : and if I were to be- 
come sceptical in regard to it, I should believe nei- 
ther the one sense nor the other ; and of all experi- 
ence, and experimental reasoning, I should become 
equally distrustful. 

As the experience of an undiscerning or careless 
spectator may be confirmed, or corrected, by that of 
one who is more attentive, or more sagacious, so 
the evidence of an imperfect sense may be cor- 
rected by that of another sense which we conceive 
to be more perfect. But the evidence of sense can 
never be corrected by any reasoning, except by that 
which proceeds on a supposition, that our senses 
are not fallacious. And all our notions concerning 
the perfection or imperfection of sense are either 
instinctive, and therefore principles of common 
sense ; or founded in experience, and therefore ul- 
timately resolvable into this maxim, That things 
are what our senses represent them. 

Lucretius is much puzzled (as his master Epicu- 
rus had been before hini) about the degree of cre- 
dit due to our visible perceptions of magnitude. 
He justly enough observes, that no principle can be 
confuted, except by another more evident princi- 
ple ; and, therefore, that the testimony of sense, 
than which nothing is more evident, cannot be con- 
futed at all^: that the testimony of the nostrils con- 

* See Diogenes Laertius, book 10.— Lucretius de rerum 
natural lib. 4, ver. 480. This author had sagacity enough to 



6HAP, I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 119 

cerning odour cannot be corrected or refuted by 
that of the eye, nor the eye by the ear, nor the ear 
by the touch, nor the touch by the taste ; because 
each of these senses hath a set of objects peculiar 
to itself, of which the other senses cannot judge, 
because, indeed, they cannot perceive them. AU 
this is very v/ell ; but there is one thing wanting, 
which I should think obvious enough, even to one 
of Epicurean principles. Of taste we judge by the 
palate only; of smell, by the nostrils only; of 
sound, by the "ears only; of colours, by the 
sight only ; of hardness, softness, heat, cold, &c. 
by the touch only; but of magnitude we judge 
both by sight and touch. In regard to magnitude, 
we must therefore believe either our sight, or our 
touch, or both, or neither. To believe neither is 
impossible : if we believe both, we shall contradict 
ourselves : if we trust our sight, and not our touch, 
our belief at one time will be inconsistent with our 
belief at another ; we shall think the same man six 

perceive the absurdity of Pyrrhonism, and to make several 
judicious remarks on the nature of evidence. But in applying 
these to his own theory, every one knows that he is by no 
means consistent. The poem of Lucretius is a melancholy 
spectacle ; it is the picture of a great genius in a state of luna- 
cy. Except w^hen the whim of his sect comes across his ima- 
gination, he argues with propriety, perspicuity, and elegance. 
Pathos of sentiment, sweetness of style, harmony of numbers, 
and a beauty, and sometimes a majesty of description, not un- 
worthy of Virgil, render his poem highly amusing, in spite 
of its absurd philosophy. A talent for extensive observation 
he seems to have possessed in an extraordinary degree ; but 
wherever the peculiar tenets of Epicureanism are concerned, 
he sees every thing through a false medium. So fatal is the 
admission of wrong principles. Persons of the most exalted 
understanding have as much need to guard against them, as 
those of the meanest capacity. If they are so imprudent, or 
so unfortunate as to adopt them, their superior genius, like the 
strength of a madman, will serve no other purpose than to in- 
volve them in greater difficulties, and give them the power of 
4oing more mischief. 



120 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART H. 

feet high, ahd not one foot high: we must there- 
fore believe our touch, if we would exert any con- 
sistent belief in regard to magnitude. 

2. But do we not, in physical experiments, ac- 
knowledge the deceitfulness of sense, when we 
have recourse to the telescope and microscope ; 
and when, in order to analyze light, which, to our 
unassisted sight, appears one uniform uncom- 
pounded thing, we transmit the rays of it through 
a prism? I answer, this implies the imperfection^ 
not the deceitfulness of sense. For if I suppose 
my sight fallacious, I can no more trust it, when 
assisted by a telescope or microscope, than when 
unassisted. I cannot prove, that things are as they 
appear to my unassisted sight ; and I can as little 
prove, that things are as they appear to my sight 
assisted by glasses. 

But is it not agreeable to common sense to be- 
lieve, that light is one uniform uncompounded 
thing? and if so, is not common sense in an error? 
and what can rectify this error but reasoning? — I 
answer, it is undeniable, that light to the unassisted 
eye appears uncompounded and uniform. If from 
this I infer, that light is precisely what it appears 
to be, I form a wrong judgment, which I may 
afterwards rectify, upon the evidence of sense, 
when I see a ray of light transmitted through a 
prism. Here an error of judgment, or a false in- 
ference of reason, is rectified by my trusting to the 
evidence of sense : to which evidence, instinct, or 
common sense determines me to trust. 

But is it not common sense that leads me to 
form this wrong judgment ? Do not all mankind 
naturally, and previously to all influence from edu- 
cation, judge in the same manner? Did not all 
philosophers before Newton, and do not all the un- 
learned to this day, believe that light is a simple 
fluid? — I answer, Common Sense teacheth me, 



CHAP. I. AN £SSAY ON TRUTH. 121 

and all mankind, to trust to experience: Experience 
tells us, that our unassisted sight, though suffici- 
ently acute for the ordinary purposes of life, is not 
acute enough to discern the minute texture of visi- 
ble objects. If notwithstanding this experience, 
we believcy that the minute texture of light, or of 
any other visible substance, is nothing different 
from that appearance which we perceive by the 
naked eye; then our belief contradicts our experi- 
ence, and consequently is inconsistent with com- 
mon sense. 

But what if you have had no experience sufficient 
to convince you, that your senses are not acute 
enough to discern the texture of the minute parts 
of bodies ? — -Then it is certain, that I can never 
attain this conviction by mere reasoning. If a mau 
were to reason a priori about the nature of light^ 
he might chop logic till dooms-day, before he con- 
vinced me, that light is compounded of rays of 
seven different colours. But if he tell me of expe- 
riments which he has made, or which he knows to 
have been made, this is quite another matter. I 
believe his testimony, and it makes up for my own 
want of experience. When I confide in his vera- 
city, I conceive, and believe, that his senses com- 
municated a true perception ; and that, if I had 
been in his place, I should also have been convin- 
ced, by the evidence of my sense, that light is" tru- 
ly compounded of rays of seven different colours. 
But I must repeat, that a supposition of my senses 
being fallacious, would render me wholly inacces- 
sible to conviction, both on the one side and on the 
:>ther. 

Suppose a man, on seeing the coloured rays 
thrown off from the- prism, should think the whole 
a delusion, and owing to the nature of the medium 
through which the light is transmitted, not to the 
nature of the light itself; and should tell me, that 



122 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II, 

he could as easily believe my face to be of a green 
colour, because it has that appearance when view- 
led through a pair of green spectacles, as that every 
ray of light consists of seven distinct colours, be- 
cause it has that appearance when transmitted 
through a prism : — would it be possible to get the 
better of this prejudice, without reasoning.^ I an- 
swer, it would not: but the reasoning used must 
all depend upon experiments ; every one of which 
must be rejected, if the testimony of sense be not 
admitted as decisive. I could think of several ex- 
pedients, in the way of appeals to sense, by which 
it might be possible to reconcile him to the Newr 
tonian theory of light ; but, in the w^ay of argu- 
ment, I cannot devise a single one. 

On an imperfect view of nature, false opinions 
may be formed: but these may be rectified by a 
more perfect view ; or, which in many cases will 
amount to the same thing, by the testimony of 
those who have obtained a more perfect view. 
The powers of man operate only within a certain 
sphere ; and till an object be brought within that 
sphere, it is impossible for them to perceive it. 
I see a small object, which I know to be a man at 
the distance of half a mile ; but cannot discern his 
complection, whether it be black or fair; nor the 
colour of his clothes, whether it be brown, or black, 
or blue ; nor his nose, whether it be long or short : 
I cannot even discern whether he has any nose at 
all: and his whole body seems to be of one uniform 
black colour. Perhaps I am so foolish as to infer, 
that therefore the man has no nose : that his clothes 
are black, and his face of the colour of his clothes. 
On going up to him, I discover that he is a hand- 
some man, of a fair complexion, dressed in blue. 
Surely it is not reasoning that sets me right in this 
instance; but it is a perfect view of an object that 
rectifies a wrong opinion formed upon an imperfect 
view. 



CHAP. I. AN ESSA^ ON TRI^TH. 123 

I hear the sound of a musical instrument at a dis- 
tance ; but hear it so faintly, that I cannot deter- 
mine whether it be that of a trumpet, a hau.tboy, a 
German flute, a French horn, or a common flute. 
I want to know from what instrument the sound ' 
proceeds ; and I have no opportunity of knowing 
from the information of others. Shall I stand still 
w^here I am, and reason about it? no j that would 
make me no wiser. I go forward to the place from 
whence the sound seems to come : and by and by I . 
can perceive, that the sound is different from that 
of a French horn and of a trumpet: but as yet I 
cannot determine whether it be the sound of a haut- 
boy or of a flute. I go on a little further, and no\Ar 
I plainly distinguish the sound of a flute ; but per- 
haps I shall not be able to know whether it be a 
German or common flute, except by means of my 
other senses, that is, by handling or looking at it. 

It is needlees to multiply instances for illus- 
trating the difference between a perfect and an im- 
perfect view of an object, and for shewing, that 
the mind trusts to the former, but distrusts the lat- 
ter. For obtaining a perfect view, (or perfect 
perception), we sometimes employ the same sense 
in a nearer situation; sometimes we make use of 
instruments, as ear-trumpets, spectacles, micros- 
copes, telescopes ; sometimes we have recourse to 
the testimony of our other senses, or of the senses 
of other men: in a word, we rectify or ascertain 
the evidence of senfee by the evidence of sense : but 
we never subject the evidence of sense to the 
cognisance of reason: for in sensations that are 
imperfect or indistinct, reasoning could neither 
supply what is deficient, nor ascertain what is in- 
definite. 

Our internal, as well as external senses, may be^ 
and often are, imposed upon, by inaccurate views 
of their objects. We may in sincerity of heart ap- 

M 



124 -^N ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II# 

plaud, and afterwards condemn the same person 
for the same action, according to the different lights 
in which that action is presented to our moral 
faculty. Just now I hear a report, that a human 
body is found dead in the neighbouring fields, with 
marks of violence upon it. Here a confused sus- 
picion arises in my mind of murder committed} 
but my conscience suspends its judgment till the 
true state of the case be better known : I am not as 
yet in a condition to perceive those qualities of this 
event which ascertain the morality of the action ; 
no more than I can perceive the beauty or deform- 
ity of a face while it is veiled, or at too great 
distance. A passenger informs me, that a person 
has been apprehended who confesses himself the 
murderer; my moral faculty instantly suggests, 
that this person has committed a crime worthy of 
a most severe and exemplary punishment. By and 
by I learn, from what I think good authority, that 
my former information is false, for that the man 
now dead had made an unprovoked assult on the 
other, who was thus driven to the necessity of kill- 
ing him in self-defence ; my conscience immedi- 
ately acquits the man-slayer. I send a messenger 
to make particular enquiry into this affair; who 
brings word that the man was accidentally killed 
by a fowler shooting at a bird, who before he fired, 
had been at all possible pains to discover whether 
any human creature was in the way; but that the 
deceased was in slich a situation that he could not 
be discovered. I regret the accident; but I blame 
neither party. Afterwards I learn, that this 
fowler was a careless fellow, and though he had 
no bad intention, was not at due pains to observe 
whether any human creature would be hurt by his 
firing. I blame his negligence with great sevdVity, 
but I cannot charge him with guilt so enormous as 
that of murder. Here my moral faculty passes 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. ^ 125 

several different judgments on the same actioii; and 
each of them is right, and will be in its turn believ- 
ed to be right, and trusted to accordingly, as long 
as the information which gave rise to it is believed 
to be true. I say the same action^ not the same 
intention; a different intention appears in the man- 
slayer from each information ; and it is only the in- 
tention and affections that the moral faculty con- 
demns or approves. To discover the intention 
wherewith actions are performed, reasoning is of- 
ten necessary; but the design of such reasoning, is 
not to sway or inform the conscience, but only 
to ascertain those circumstances or qualities of the 
action, from which the intention of the agent may 
appear. When this becomes manifest, the consci- 
ence of mankind immediately and intuitively de- 
clares it to be virtuous, or vitious, or innocent. — 
These different judgments of the moral faculty are 
so far from proving it fallacious, that they prove 
the contrary : at least this faculty would be ex- 
tremely fallacious, and absolutely useless, if, in 
the case now supposed, it did not form different 
judgments. — While the intention of the agent is 
wholly unknown, an action is upon the same footing 
in regard to its morality, as a human face, in re- 
gard to its beauty, while it is veiled, or at too great 
distance. By removing the veil, or walking up to 
the object, we perceive its beauty and features; 
and by reasoning, or by information concerning 
the circumstances of the action, we are enabled 
to discover or infer the intention of the agent. 
The act of removing the veil, or of walking up 
to the object, has no effect on the eye ; nor has the 
reasoning any effect on the conscience. — While we 
view an object through an impure or unequal medi- 
um, through a pair of green spectacles, or an 
uneven pane of glass, we see it discoloured or 
distorted; just so, when misrepresented, a good 
action may seem evil, and an evil action good. 



126 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

If we be suspicious of the representation, if we be 
aware of tfie improper medium, we distrust the 
appearance accordingly; if not, we do, and must 
believe it genuine. It is by reasoning from our 
experience of human actions and their causes, or 
by the testimony of credible witnesses, that we de- 
tect misrepresentations concerning moral conduct ; 
and it is also by the experience of our own senses, 
or by our belief in those who have had such expe- 
rience, that we become sensible of inequalities or 
obscurities in the medium through which we con- 
template visible objects. In either case the evi- 
dence of sense is admitted as finally decisive. A 
distempered sense, as well as an impure or unequal 
medium, may doubtless communicate false sen- 
sations ; but we are never imposed upon by them 
in matters of consequence. A person in a fever 
may think honey bitter, and the smell of a rose of- 
fensive ; but the delusion is of so short continuance, 
and of so singular a kind, that it can do no harm, 
either to him, or to the cause of truth. To a jaun- 
diced eye, the whole creation may seem tincitured 
with yellow; but the patient's former experience, 
and his belief in the testimony of others, who 
assure him, that they perceive no alteration in the 
colour of bodies, and tbjit the alteration he per- 
ceives is a common attendant on his disease, will 
sufficiently guard him against mistakes. If he were 
to distrust the evidence of sense, he could believe 
neither his own experience nor their testimony. 
He corrects, or at least becomes sensible of the 
false sensation, by means of sensations formerly 
received when he v/as in health ; that is, he cor- 
rects the evidence of an ill-informed sense by that 
of a well-informed sense, or by the declaration of 
those whose senses he believes to be better inform- 
ted than his own. Still it is plain, that from the 
evidence of sense there can be uq appeal to reason^ 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* 127 

We conclude, therefore, that in natural philo- 
sophy our sensations are not supposed fallacious, 
and that reasoning is not carried beyond the princi- 
ples of comnaon sense. And yet in this science full 
scope is given to impartial investigation. If, after 
the first experimental process, you suspect that 
the object may be set in a still fairer light, I know 
no law in logic, or in good sense, that can or 
ought to hinder you from making a new trial: 
but if this new trial turn to no account; if the 
object still appear the same, or if it appear 
less distinct than before, it were folly not to 
remain satisfied with the first trial. Newton trans- 
mitted one of the refracted primitive colours 
through a second prism, thinking it not impossible 
that this colour might resolve itself into other still 
more simple, but finding it remain unaltered, he 
was satisfied that the primitive colours are not 
compounded, but simple, and that the experimental 
process had already been carried far enough. — I 
take in my hand a perspective glass, whose tube 
may be lengthened and shortened at pleasure ; and 
I am to find out by my own industry, that precise 
length at which the maker designed it should be 
used in looking at distant objects. I make several 
trials to no purpose ; the distant object appears not 
at alL or but very confusedly. I hold one end of 
the perspective at my eye with one hand, and with 
the other I gradually shorten the tube, having first 
drawn it out to its greatest length. At first all is 
confusion; now I can discern the inequalities of 
the mountains in the horizon ; now the object I am 
in quest of begins to appear ; it becomes less and 
less confused; I see it distinctly. I continue to 
shorten the tube ; the object loses its distinct ap- 
pearance, and begins to relapse into its former ob- 
scurity. After many trials, I find that my per- 
spective exhibits no distinct appearance except 

M 2 



128 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART 11* 

when it is of one particular length. Here then I 
fix; I have adjusted the glasses according to the 
intention of the maker ; and I believe that the dis- 
tinct appearance is an accurate representation of 
the distant object, or at least more accurate than 
any of the confused appearances ; of which I be- 
lieve, that they come the nearer to truth, the more 
they approach to distinctness, and that the most con- 
fused representations are the most false. 

It was not by reasoning about the fallacy of the 
senses, and prosecuting a train of argument be- 
yond the principles of common sense, that men dis- 
covered the true svstem of the world. In the 

■J 

earlier ages, when they imagined the sun to be lit- 
tle bigger than the mountain beyond which he dis- 
appeared, it was absurd to think of the earth 
revolving round him. But in process of time, in- 
genious men, who applied themselves to the obser- 
ivation of the heavenly bodies?, not with a view to 
confute popular errors, for they could not as yet 
even suspect the vulgar opinion to be erroneous, 
but merely to gratify their own laudable curiosity, 
began to conceive more exalted notions of the mun- 
dane system. They soon distinguished the planets 
from the fixed stars, by observing the former to 
be more variable in their appearances. After a 
long succession of years, employed, not in reason- 
ing, but attentive observation, they came at last to 
understand the motions of the sun and moon so 
well, that, to the utter astonishment of the vulgar, 
they began to calculate eclipses : a degree of know-* 
ledge they could not attain, without being con- 
vinced, that the sun and moon are very large bo- 
dies, placed at very great distances from the earth, 
the former much larger, and more remote than the 
latter. Thus far it is impossible to shew, that any 
reasoning had been employed by those ancient 
astronomers^ either to prove or to disprove, the evi- 



GHAP I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 129 

dence of the senses. On the contrary, they must 
all along have taken it for granted, that the senses 
are not fallacious ; supposing only, (what it is cer- 
tainly agreeable to common sense to suppose), that 
the experience of a diligent observer is more to be 
depended on, than that of the inattentive multitude. 
As men grew more and more acquainted with 
the motions and appearances of the heavenly bodies, 
they became more and more sensible, that the sun, 
earth, and planets, bear some very peculiar rela- 
tion to one another : and having learned from the 
phenomena of eclipses, and some other natural 
appearances, that the sun is bigger than the earth ^, 
they might, without absurdity, begin to suspect, 
that possibly the sun might be the centre round 
which the earth, and other planets revolve ; espe- 
cially, considering the magnificence of that glorious 
luminary, and the wonderful and delightful effects 
produced by the influence of his beams, while at 
the same time he seems not to derive any advan- 
tage from the earth, or other planets. . But if the 
matter had been carried no further, no reasoning 
from these circumstances could ever have amount- 
ed to a proof of the point in question, though it 
might breed a faint presumption in its favour. 
For still the evidence of sense seemed ^o contra- 
dict it; an evidence which nothing can disprove, 
but the evidence of sense placed in circumstances 
more favourable to accurate observation. The in- 
vention of optical glasses did at last furnish the 

* Heraclitus maintained, that the sun is but a foot broad ; 
Anaxagoras, that he is much larger than the country of Pelo- 
ponnesus; and Epicurus, that he is no bigger than he appears 
to the eye. But the astronomers of antiquity maintained that 
he is bigger than the earth ; eight times, according to the 
Egyptians; eighteen times, according to Eratosthenes^; three 
hundred times, according to Cleomedes; one thousand and 
fifty times, according to Hipparchus ; and iifty-niiie thousand 
three hundred and nineteen times, according to Possidonius. 



130 AN ESSAY ON TRITTH. PART II, 

means of making experiments with regard to this 
matter, and of putting man in circumstances more 
favourable to accurate observation; and thus the 
point was brought to the test of common sense. 
And now, we not only know, that the Copernican 
theory is true, for every person who understands 
it is convinced of its truth ; but we also know to 
what causes the universal belief of the contrary 
doctrine is to be ascribed. We know that men, 
considering the remote situation of our earth, and 
the imperfection of our senses, could not have 
judged otherwise than they did, till that imperfec- 
tion was remedied, either by accuracy of observa- 
tion, or by the invention of optical instruments. 
We speak not of revelation; which has indeed 
been vouchsafed to man for the regulation of his 
moral conduct ; but which it would be presump- 
tion to expect or desire, merely for the gratifica- 
tion of curiosity. 

It is evident, from what has been said, that in 
natural philosophy, as well as in mathematics, no 
argumentation is prosecuted beyond self-evident 
principles ; that as in the latter all reasoning termi- 
nates in intuition, so in the former all reasoning 
terminates in the evidence of sense. And as, in 
mathematics, that is accounted an intuitive axiom, 
which is of itself so clear and evident, that it can- 
not be illustrated or inforced by any medium of 
proof, and which must be believed, and is in fact 
believed by all on its own authority ; so, in natural 
philosophy, that is accounted an ultimate principle, 
undeniable and unquestionable, which is supported 
by the evidence of a well-informed sense, placed so 
as to perceive its object. In mathematics, that is 
accounted false doctrine which is inconsistent with 
any self-evident principle ; in natural philosophy, 
that is rejected which contradicts matter of fact, 
or, in other words, which is repugnant to the 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 131 

appearances of things as perceived bj^ external 
sense. 

Regulated by this criterion of truth, mathematics 
and natural philosophy have become of all sciences 
the most respectable in point of certainty. Hence 
I am encouraged to hope, that if the same criterion 
were universally adopted in the philosophy of the 
mind, the science of human nature, instead of being, 
as at present, a chaos of uncertainty and contradic- 
tion, would acquire a considerable degree of cer- 
tainty, perspicuity, and order. If truth be at all at- 
tainable in this science, (and if it is not attainable, 
why should we trouble our heads about it ?) surely 
it must be attained by the same means as in those 
other sciences. For of the eternal relations and fit- 
' nesses of things, we know nothing : all that we 
know of truth and falsehood is, that our constitu- 
tion determines us in some cases to believe, in 
others to disbelieve ; and that to us is truth which 
we feel that we must believe ; and that to us is 
falsehood which we feel that we must disbelieve^. 
There are innumerable truths with which we are 
wholly unacquainted ; there are perhaps some truths 
which we reject as falsehood ; but, surely, we must 
both know dnd believe a truth before we can ac- 
knowledge it as such : and belief is nothing but a 
perception, or, if you please, an action of the mind, 
the peculiar nature of which we all know by in- 
ternal feeling or consciousness, and cannot possibly 
know in any other way. 

I therefore would propose, " That in the philo- 
sophy of human nature, as well as in physics and 
mathematics, principles be examined according to 
the standard of common sense, and be admitted or 
rejected as they are found to agree or disagree with 
it :" more explicitly, " That those doctrines be 
rejected which contradict matter of fact, that is, 

* See the next section. 



132 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART ll. 

which are repugnant to the appearances of things, 
as perceived by external and internal sense ; and that 
those principles be accounted ultimate, undeniable, 
and unquestionable, which are warranted by the 
evidence of a well-informed sense, placed in cir- 
cumstances favourable to a distinct perception of 
its object." 

But what do you mean by a xvell informed sense? 
How shall I know, that any particular faculty of 
mine is not defective, depraved, or fallacious ? — 
Perhaps it is not easy, at least it would furnish mat- 
ter for too long a digression, to give a full answer 
to this question. Nor is it at present necessary ; 
because it will appear in the sequel, that, however 
difficult it may be in some cases to distinguish a 
first principle, yet there are certain marks, by which 
those reasonings that tend to the subversion of a 
first principle, may be detected, at least in all cases 
of importance. However, we shall offer a remark 
or two in answer to the question ; which, though 
they should not appear perfectly unexceptionable, 
may yet throw light on the subject, and serve to 
prepare the mind of the reader for some things that 
are to follow. 

First, then, if I wanted to certify myself concern- 
ing any particular sense or percipient faculty, that 
it is neither depraved nor defective, I should attend 
to the feelings or sensations communicated by it ; 
and observe whether they be clear and definite, and 
such as I am, of my own accord, disposed to confide 
in without hesitation, as true, genuine, and natural. 
If they are such, I should certainly act upon them 
till I had some positive reason to think them falla- 
cious. — Secondly, I consider, whether the sensa- 
tions received by this faculty be uniformly similar 
in similar circumstances : if they are not, I should 
suspect, either that it is now depraved, or was for- 
merly so ; and if I had no other criterion to direct 
me, should be much at a loss to know whether I 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 133 

ought to trust the former or the latter experience ; 
perhaps I should distrust both. If they are uni- 
form, if my present and my past experience do ex- 
actly coincide, I shall then be disposed to think 
them both right. — Thirdly, I consider, whether, 
in acting upon the supposition that the faculty in 
question is well-informed, I have ever been misled 
to my hurt or inconvenience ; if not, then have I 
good reason to think, that I was not mistaken when 
I formed that supposition, and that this faculty is 
really what I supposed it to be. — Fourthly, If the 
sensations communicated by this facuky be incom- 
patible with one another, or irreconcileable to the 
perceptions of my other faculties, I should suspect 
a depravation of the former : for the laws of nature, 
as far as my experience goes, are consistent ; and 
I have a natural tendency to believe that they are 
universally so. It is therefore a presumption, that 
my faculties are well-informed, when the percep- 
tions of one are quite consistent with those of 
the rest, and with one another. — In a state of soli- 
tude I must satisfy myself with these criteria; but 
in society I have access to another criterion, which 
in many cases, will be reckoned more decisive than 
any of these, and which, in concurrence with these, 
will be sufficient to banish doubt from every ra- 
tional mind. I compare my sensations and notions 
with those of other men ; and if I find a perfect 
coincidence, I shall then be satisfied that my sensa- 
tions are according to the law of human nature, and 
therefore right. — To illustrate all this by an ex- 
ample : 

I want to know whether my sense of seeing be a 
well-informed faculty. — First, I have reason to 
think that it is : because my eyes communicate to 
me such sensations as I, of my own accord, am dis- 
posed to confide in. There is something in my 
perceptions of sight so distinct, and so definite. 



134 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. x PART lU 

that I do not find myself in the least disposed to 
doubt whether things be what my eyes represent 
them. Even the obscurer informations of this 
faculty carry along with them their own evidence, 
and my belief. I am confident, that the sun arid 
moon are round, as they appear to be, that the rain- 
bow is arched, that grass is green, snow white, and 
the heavens azure ; and this 1 should have believed, 
though I had passed all my days in solitude, and 
never known any thing of other animals, or their 
senses. — Secondly, I find that my notions of the 
visible qualities of bodies are the same now they 
have always been. If this were not the case ; if 
where I saw greenness yesterday I were to see yel- 
low to-day, I should be apt to suppose, that my 
sight had suffered some depravation, except I had 
reason to think, that the object had really changed 
colour. But indeed we have so strong a tendency 
to believe our senses, that I doubt not but in such a 
case I should be more disposed to suspect a change 
in the object than in niy eye-sight: much would de- 
pend on the circumstances of the case. We rub our 
eyes when we want to look at any thing with accu- 
racy; for we know by experience, that motes, and 
cloudy specks, which may be removed by rubbing,^ 
do sometimes float in the eye, and hurt the sights 
But if the alteration of the visible qualities in the 
external object be such as we have never experien- 
ced from a depravation of the organ, we should be 
inclined to trust our eye-sight, rather than to sup- 
pose that the external object has remained unalter- 
ed. — Thirdly, no evil consequence has ever hap- 
pened to me when acting upon the supposition, that 
my faculty of seeing is a well informed sense : 
whereas, if I were to act on the contrary supposi- 
tion, I should soon have cause to regret my scepti- 
cism. I see a post in my way ; by turning a little 
aside, I pass it unhurt : but if I had supposed my 



CHAP. I.< AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 133i 

sight fallacious, and gone straight forward, a bloody- 
nose, or something worse, might have been the 
cotlsequence. If, when I bend my course obliquely 
in order to avoid the post that seems to stand di- 
rectly before me, I were to run my head full against 
it, I should instantly suspect a depravation in my 
eye-sight : but as I never experience any misfor- 
tune of this kind, I believe that my sense of seeing 
is a well-informed faculty, — Fourthly, the percep- 
tions received by this sense are perfectly consistent 
with one another, and with the perceptions received 
by my other faculties. When I see the appearance 
of a solid body in my way, my touch always con- 
firms the testimony of my sight ; if it did not, I 
should suspect a fallacy in one or other of those 
senses, perhaps in both. When I look on a line of 
soldiers, they all seem standing perpendicular, as I 
myself stand ; but if the men at the extremities of 
the line, without leaning against any thing, were to 
appear as if they formed an angle of forty-five de- 
grees with the earth's surface, I should suspect 
some unaccountable obliquity in my vision. — Last- 
ly, after the experience of several years, after all 
the knowledge I have been able to gather, concern- 
ing the sensations of other men, from reading, dis- 
course, and observation, I have no reason to think 
their sensations of sight different from mine. Every 
body who uses the English language, calls snow 
white, and grass green ; and it would be in the* 
highest degree absurd to suppose, that what they 
call the sensation of whiteness, is not the same sen- 
sation which I call by that name. Some few, per- 
haps, see differently from me. A man in the jaun- 
dice sees that rose yellow which I see red; a short- 
sighted man sees that picture confusedly at the 
distance of three yards, which I see distinctly. 
But far the greater part of mankind see as I do, 
and differently from those few individuals ; whose 

N 



136 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART IJ. 

sense of seeing I therefore consider as less per- 
fect than mine. Nay, though the generality of 
mankind were short-sighted, still it would be true, 
that we, who are not so, have the most perfect 
sight ; for our sight is more accurate in its percep- 
tions, qualifies us better for the business of life, and 
coincides more exactly, or at least more immediate- 
ly, with the sensations received by the other senses. 
Yet the short-sighted, as well as they who have the 
acutest sight, trust to this sense, as soon as they are 
placed in a situation favourable to accurate observa- 
tion : all the difference is, that it is more difficult, 
and often more inconvenient, for short-sighted per- 
sons to place themselves in such a situation. Still it 
should be remembered that a perfect sense and a 
zuell'injhrmed sense are not synonymous terms. We 
call a sense well-informed^ in opposition to one that 
IS depraved OY fallacious. Perfection wcidimperfec- 
tion of sense are relative terms ; implying a com- 
parison, either between different men, in respect of 
the acuteness of their senses and faculties ; or be- 
tween any sense, as it appears in a particular man, 
and the degree of acuteness which is found to be- 
long to that sense as it appears in the generality of 
mankind. There are two telescopes, one of which 
gives a distinct view of an object at two, and the 
other at four miles distance ; both are equally well- 
informed^ (if I may so speak); that is, equally true 
in their representations ; but the one is much more 
imperfect than the other. 

I do not, at present, offer any further illustrations 
of these criteria oi a well-informed sense. The 
reader who examines them by the rules of common 
prudence, will perhaps be satisfied with them : at 
least I am apt to think, that few will suspect the 
veracity of their faculties when they stand this test. 
But let it not be supposed, that I mean to insinu- 
ate, that a map never trusts his faculties till he first 



CHAP. I. An essay on truth. 137 

examine them after this manner : we believe our 
senses previously to all reflection or examination ; 
and we never disbelieve them, but upon the au- 
thority of our senses placed in circumstances more 
favourable to accurate observation. 

'' If the reader is not satisfied widi these criteria^ 
it is no great matter. The question concerning a 
well-informed sense it is not perhaps easy to answer. 
I offer these remarks rather as hints to be attended 
to by other adventurers in this part of science, than 
as a complete solution of the difficulty. If it were 
not that I presume some advantage may be derived 
from them in this way, I should have omitted them 
altogether ; for on them does not depend the doc- 
trine I mean to establish. 



SECT. III. 

The subject continued. Intuitive truths distinguish^ 

able into classes* 

OF the notions attending the perception of cer- 
tain truth, we formerly mentioned this as one, 
" That in regard to such truth, we suppose we should 
entertain the same sentiments and belief if we 
were perfectly acquainted with all nature^." Lest 
it should be thought that we mean to extend this no- 
tion too far, it seems proper to introduce here the 
following remarks. 

1. The axioms and demonstrated conclusions of 
geometry are certainly true, and certainly agreeable 
to the nature of things. Thus we judge of them at 
present ; and thus we necessarily believe, that we 
should judge of them, even if we were endued with 
omniscience and infallibility. It is a natural dictate 

* See part 1. chap. 1» 



138 JIN ErSSAY ON TRUTH. PART 11. 

of Jiuman understanding, that the contrary of these 
truths must for ever remain absurd and impossible, 
and that omnipotence itself cannot change their na- 
ture ; thbugh it might so deprave our judgment as 
to make us disbelieve or not perceive them=^. 

2. That my body exists, and is endued with a 
thinking, active, and permanent principle, which I 
call my soul ; — That the material world hath such 
an existence as the vulgar ascribe to it, that is, a 
real separate existence, to which its being perceiv- 
ed is in no wise necessary: — That the men, beasts, 
houses, and mountains, we see and feel around us, 
are not imaginary, but real and material beings, 
and such, in respect of shape and tangible magni- 
tude, as they appear to our senses ; I am not only 
conscious that I believe, but also certain, that 
such is the nature of these things, and that, thus far 
at least, in regard to the nature of these things, an 
omniscient and infallible being cannot think me mis- 

* Some authors are of opinion, tha;t aU mathematical truth 
is resolvable into identical propositions. The following re- 
mark to this purpose is taken from a Dissertation on Evidence, 
printed at Berlin in the year 1764. *'Omnes mathematicorum 
propositiones sunt identicse, et reprsesent antur hac formula, 
a=a. Sunt veritates identicse, sub varia forma expr^ssae, imo 
ipsum, quod dicitur, contradictionis principium, vario modo 
enunciatum et involutum ; siquidem omnes hujus generis pro- 
positiones revera in eo contineantur. Secundum nostrani 
autem intelligendi facultatem ea est propositionum differentia, 
quod quaedam longa ratiociniorum serie, alia autem breviori 
>ia, ad primum omnium principium reducantur, et in illud 
i*esolvantur. Sic. v. g. propositio 2+2=4, statim hue cedit 
l-|.l_|.ja-l=l + l+.l^-l, i.e. idem; et, proprie loquendo, 

hoc modo enunciari debet. — Si contingat, adesse vel existere 
quatuor entia ; turn existunt quatuor entia ; nam de existentia 
non agunt geometrse, sed eahyppthetice tantum subintelligitur. 
Inde summa oritur certitudo ratiocinia perspicienti ; observat 
nempe idearum identitatem ; et hsec est evidentia, assensum 
immediate cogens, quam mathematicam aut geometricam 
Vocamus. Mathesi tamen sua natura priva non est et propria; 
t)ritur etenim ex identitatis perceptione, quae locum habere 
potest, etiamsi ideje nou reprsesentent extensum/' 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 139 

taken. Of these truths I am so certain, that I scru- 
ple not to pronounce eV'ery being in an error who is 
of a contrary sentiment concerning them. For sup- 
pose an inteUigent creature, an angel for instance, to 
believe that there are not in the universe any such 
things as this solar system, this earth, these moun- 
tains, houses, animals, this being whom I call my- 
self; could I, by any eifort, bring myself to 
believe, that his opinion is a true one, and implies 
a proposition expressive of something agreeable to 
the nature of things ? It is impossible and incon- 
ceivable. My understanding intimates, that such 
an opinion would as certainly be false, as it is false 
that two and two are equal to ten, or that things 
equal to one and the same thing are unequal to one 
another. Yet this is an opinion which omnipotence 
could render true, by annihilating the v/hole of this 
solar system ; or make me admit as true, by de- 
priving me of understanding. But so long as tliis 
solar system remains unannihilated, and my intel- 
lect undepraved, there is not a geometrical axiom 
more true, or more evident to me, than that this 
solar system, and all the objects above-mentioned, 
do exist; there is not a geometrical axiom that has 
any better title to be accounted a principle of human 
knowledge; there is not a geometrical axiom 
against which it is more absurd, more unreasonable, 
more unphilosophical, to argue. 

3. That snow is white, fire hoty gold yellow, 
and sugar sweet, we believe, to be certainly 
true. These bodies affect our eyes, touch, and 
palate, in a peculiar manner; and we have no 
reason to think, that they affect the organs of dif- 
ferent men in a different manner : on the contrary^ 
we believe, with full assurance, founded on suffi- 
cient reason, that they affect the senses of all men 
m the same manner. The peculiar sensation we 
receive from them depends on three things ; on the 

n2 , ■ 



140 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.. 

nature of the object perceived, on the nature 
of the organ of perception, and on the nature of 
the percipient being. Of each of these things the 
Deity could change the nature ; and make sugar 
bitter, fire cold, snow black, and gold green. But till 
this be done ; in other words, while things continue 
as they are, it is as certainly true, that snow is 
white, fire hot, &c. as that two and two are equal 
to four, or a whole greater than a part. If we 
suppose, that snow, notwithstanding its appearance 
is black, or not white, we must also suppose, that 
our senses and intellect are fallacious faculties ; and 
therefore cannot admit any thing as true which has 
no better evidence than that of sense and intellect. 
If a creature of a different nature from man were 
to say, that snow is black, and hot, I should reply, 
(supposing him to use these words in the same 
sense in which I use them). It may possibly have 
that appearance to your senses, but it has not 
that appearance to mine : it may therefore, in re- 
gard to your faculties be true ; and if so, it ought 
to constitute a part of your philosophy : but of my 
philosophy it cannot constitute a part, because, in 
respect of my faculties, it is false, being contrary 
to fact and experience. If the same being were to 
affirm, that a part is equal to a whole, I should 
answer, it is impossible; none can think so but 
those who are destitute of understanding. If he 
were to say, the solar system explained by New- 
ton does not exist, I should answer, you are mis- 
taken; if your knowledge were not imperfect, you 
would think otherwise ; I am certain that it does 
exist. — We see, by thus stating the case, what is 
the difference between these three sorts of certaintv. 
But still in respect to man, these three sorts are ail 
equally evident, equally certain, and equally un- 
susceptible of confutation : and none of them can 
-fee disbelieved or doubted by us, except we disa- 



/ . 



CHAP, I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* 141 

VOW the distinction between truth and falsehood, 
by supposing our faculties fallacious. 

4. Of moral truth, we connot bring ourselves to 
think that the Deity's notions (pardon the expres- 
sion) are contrary to ours. If we believe Him om- 
niscient and infallible, can we also believe, that, 
in his sight, cruelty, injustice, and ingratitude, are 
worthy of reward and praise, and the opposite vir- 
tues of blame and punishment? It is absolutely im- 
possible. The one belief destroys the other. — . 
Common sense declares, that a being possessed 
of perfect knowledge, can no more entertain such a 
sentiment, than I with my eyes open can just now 
avoid seeing the light. If a created being were, in 
all cases, to think that virtue which we think vice, 
and that vice which we think virtue, what would 
be our notions of his intelligence ? Should we not|, 
without hesitation, pronounce him irrational, and 
his opinion an absurdity? The absurdity indeed is 
conceivable, and may be exppressed in words that 
imply no contradiction : but that any being should 
think in this manner, and yet not think wrong, is 
to us as perfectly inconceivable as that the same 
thing should be both true and false^. 

We speak here of the great and leading princi- 
ples of moral duty. Many subordinate duties there 

* Locke says that Moral Truth is susceptible of demon- 
stration. If by this he means, that it admits of evidence 
sufficient to satisfy every rational mind, he is certainly in the 
right. But if by the word demonstration be meant, what Ge- 
ometricians mean by it, a proof that may be resolved into one . 
or more self-evident axioms, whose contraries are inconceiv- 
able, we confess that neither moral nor historical truth is sus- 
ceptible of demonstration, nor many other truths of the most 
unquestionable certainty. However, it is not to be supposed, 
that Locke intended to use this word in any stricter sense than 
what is fixed by general practice ; according to which, every 
p oof that brings indubitable evidence to the reason or gensejs 
may properly be called a demonstration. 



142 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

are, which result from the form of particular 
governments, and from particular modes of educa- 
tion ; and there are some, which, though admira- 
bly adapted to the improvement and perfection of 
our nature, are yet so sublime, that the natural 
conscience of mankind, unassisted by revelation, 
can hardly be supposed capable of discovering 
them : but in regard to justice, gratitude, and those 
other virtues, of which no rational beings (so far 
as we know) are or can be ignorant, it is impos- 
sible for us to believe that our sentiments are 
wrong. I say, there are duties of which no rati- 
onal beings can be ignorant: for if moral sentiments 
be the result of a bias, or vis insita^ communicated 
to the rational soul by its Creator, then must they 
be as universal as rational nature, and as perma- 
nent as the effects of any other natural law; and it is 
as absurd to argue against their truth or authenti- 
city, as against the reality of any other matter of 
fact. But several authors of note have denied this 
inference, as well as the principle whence it pro- 
ceeds ; or at least, by calling the one in question, 
have endeavoured to make us sceptical in regard to 
the other. They have endeavoured to prove, that 
moral sentiment is different in different countries, 
and under different forms of religion, government, 
and manners; that therefore, in respect of it, 
there is no vis insita in the mind ; for that, previous 
to education, we are in a state of perfect indiffer- 
ence a!$ to virtue and vice : and that an opposite 
course of education would have made us think that 
virtue which now we think vice, and that vice which 
now we think virtue ; in a word, that moral senti- 
ments are as much the effect of custom and human 
artifice, as our taste in dress, furniture, and the 
modes of conversation. In proof of this doctrine, 
a multitude of facts have been brought together, to 
show the prodigious diversity, and even contrariety, 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 14$ 

that takes place in the moral opinions of different 
ages, nations, and climates. Of all our modern 
sceptical notions, this seemed to me one of the most 
dangerous. For my own satisfaction, and for the 
sake of those whom it is my duty to instruct, I have 
been at great pains to examine it; and the exami- 
nation has turned out to my entire satisfaction. But 
the materials I have collected on this subject are 
far too bulky to be inserted here. The sceptical 
arguments are founded, not only on mistakes con- 
cerning the nature of virtue, but also on some his- 
torical facts mis-represented, and on others so 
equivocal, and bare of circumstances, that they 
really have no meaning. From the number of his- 
torical, as well as philosophical disquisitions, which 
I found it necessary to introduce, the inquiry con- 
cerning the universality and immutability of moral 
truth, which I thought to have comprised in a few 
pages, soon swelled into a treatise. I meant to 
have finished it some years ago; but have hitherto 
been prevented by a number of unforeseen acci- 
dents. 

5. Of probable truth, a superior being may think 
differently from us, and yet be in the right. For 
every proposition is either true or false ; and every 
probable past event has either happened, or not 
happened, as every probable future event will 
either happen or not happen. From the imperfec- 
tion of our faculties, and from the narrowness of 
our experience, we may judge wrong, when we 
think that a certain event has happened or will hap- 
^ pen: and a being of a more extensive experience, 
and more perfect understanding, may see that we 
judge wrong ; for that the event in question never 
did happen, nor ever will. Yet it does not follow, 
that a man may either prudently or rationally dis- 
trust his probable notions as fallacious. That 
which man, by the constitution of his nature, is 



144 An essay on truth. part ij. 

determined to admit as probable, he ought to admit 
as probable ; for, in regard to man, that is proba- 
ble truth. Not to admit it probable, when at the 
same time he must believe it to be so, is mere ob- 
stinacy : and not to believe that probable, which all 
other men who have the same view of all the cir- 
cumstances, believe probable, would be ascribed 
to caprice, or want of understanding. If one in 
such a case were refractory, we should naturally 
ask. How comes it, that you think differently from 
us in this matter ? have you any reason tp think 
us in a mistake ? is your knowledge of the circum- 
stances from which we infer the probability of this 
event, different from ours ? do you know any thing 
about it, of which we are ignorant? If he reply in 
the negative, and yet persist in contradicting our 
opinion, we should certainly think him an unrea- 
sonable man. Every thing, therefore, which to 
human creatures seems intuitively probable, is to 
be accounted one of the first principles of probable 
human knov/ledge. A human creature act^ an 
irrational part when he argues against it; and if 
he refuse to acknowledge it probable, he cannot, 
without contradicting himself, acquiesce in any 
oth&r human probability whatsoever. 

It appears from what has been said, that there 
are various kinds of intuitive certainty; and that 
those who will not allow any truth to be self-evi- 
dent, except what has all the characteristics of a 
geometrical axiom, are much mistaken. From the 
view we have given of this subject, it would be 
easy to reduce these intuitive certainties into 
classes ; but this is not necessary on the present 
occasion. We are here treating of the nature and 
immutability of truth as perceived by human facul- 
ties. Whatever intuitive proposition man, by the 
law of his nature, must believe as certain, or as 
probable, is, in regard to him, certain or probable 



ClWiP* II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 145 

truth ; and must constitute a part of human know- 
ledge, and remain unalterably the same, as long as 
the human constitution remains unaltered. And 
we must often repeat, that he who attempts to dis- 
prove such intuitive truth, or to make men seep* 
tical in regard to it, acts a part as inconsistent with 
sound reasoning, and as effectually subversive of all 
human knowledge, as if he attempted to disprove 
truths which he knew to be agreeable to the eternal 
and necessary relations of things. Whether the 
Deity can or cannot change these truths into false- 
hoods, we need not seek to determine, because it 
is of no consequence to us to know. It becomes us 
better to inquire, with humility and reverence, into 
what he has done, than vainly, and perhaps pre- 
sumptuously, into what he can do. Whatever he 
has been pleased to establish in the universe, is as 
certainly established, as if it were in itself unchange- 
able and from eternity; and, while he wills it to re- 
main what he made it, is as permanent as his own 
nature. 



CHAP. II. 

The preceding' theory rejected by sceptical writers* 

WE have seen, that mathematicians and natural 
philosophers do, in effect, acknowledge the dis- 
tinction between common sense and reason, as 
above explained ; admitting the dictates of the for- 
mer as ultimate and unquestionable principles, and 
never attempting either to prove or to disprove 
them by reasoning. If we enquire a little into the 
genius of modern scepticism, we shall see, that, 
there, a very different plan of investigation has 
been adopted. This will best appear by instances 
taken from that pretended philosophy. But first let 
us offer a few general remarks. 



146 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 



SECT. I. 

General Observations. Rise and Progress of Mo- 
dern Scepticisjn. 

1. THE Cartesian philosophy is to be consider- 
ed as the ground- work of modern scepticism. The 
source of Locke's reasoning against the separate 
existence of the secondary quaUties of matter, of 
Berkeley's reasoning against the existence of a 
material world, and of Hume's reasoning against 
the existence both of soul and body, may be found 
in the first part of the Principia of Des Cartes. 
Yet nothing seems to have been further from the 
intention of this worthy and most ingenious phi- 
losopher, than to give countenance to error, irre- 
ligion, or licentiousness. He begins with doubting; 
but it is with a view to arrive at conviction : his 
successors (some of them at least) the further they 
advance in their systems, become more and more 
sceptical ; and at length the reader is told, to his 
infinite pleasure and emolument, that the under- 
standing, acting alone, does entirely subvert itself, 
and leaves not the lowest degree of evidence in any 
proposition whatsoever"^. 

The first thing a philosopher ought to do, ac- 
cording to Des Cartes, is to divest himself of all 
prejudices, and all his former opinions ; to reject 
the evidence of sense, of intuition, and of mathe- 
matical demonstration ; to suppose that there is no 
God, nor heaven, nor earth; and that man has nei- 
ther hands, nor feet, nor body ; — in a word, he is 
to doubt of every thing of which it is possible to 
doubt, and to be persuaded, that every thing is 
false which can possibly be conceived to be doubt- 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. I. p. 464. 



CjrAP il. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, 14^ 

fill. Now there Is only one point of which it Is 
possible not to doubt, namely. That I, the person 
who doubts, am thinking. This proposition, there- 
fore, It/link^ and this only, may be taken for grant- 
ed; and nothing else whatsoever is to be believed 
without proof. 

What is to be expected from this strange intro- 
duction? s^One or other of these two things must 
necessariljr follow. This author will either believe 
nothing at all, or if he believe any thing, it must 
be upon the recommendation of false and sophisti- 
cal reasoning."^ But Des Cartes is no sceptic in 
his moral reasonings, therefore, in his moral rea- 
sonings he must be a sophister. Let us see whether 
we can make good this charge against him by 
facts. 

Taking it for granted, that he thinks, he thence 
infers, that he exists: Eg-o cogtto^ ergo sum: I 
think ; therefore, I exist. Now tliere cannot be 
thought where there is no existence ; before he take 
it for granted that he thinks, he must also take it 
for granted that he exists. This argument, there-^ 
fore, proceeds on a supposition, that the thing to 
be proved is true j in other words, it is a sophism, 
a petitio principti. Even supposing it possible to 
conceive thinking without at the same time con- 
ceiving existence, still this is no conclusive argu- 
ment, except it could be shown, that it is more evi- 
dent to a man that he thinks, than that he exists ; 
for in every true proof a less evident proposition is 
inferred from one that is more evident. But / 
think and / exist^ are equally evident. Therefore 
this is no true proof. — To set an example of false 
reasoning in the very foundation of a system, can 
hardly fail to have bad consequences* 

* See the first part of this Essa>% 
o 



148 ' AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. . PART 11. 

Having in this manner established his own exist- 
ence, our author next proceeds to prove the vera- 
city of his faculties ; that is, to show by reasoning 
that what he thinks true, is really true, and that 
what he thinks false is really false.- He would have 
done better to have taken this also for granted : the 
argument by which he attempts to prove it, does 
more honour to his heart than to his understanding. 
It is indeed a sophism of the same kind with the 
former, in which he takes that for granted which 
he means to prove. It runs thus : We are consci- 
ous, that we have in our minds the idea of a being 
infinitely perfect, intelligent and powerful, neces- 
sarily existent and eternal. This idea differs from 
all our other ideas in two respects : — It implies th 
notions of eternal and necessary existence, and 
infinite perfection ; — it neither is, nor can be, a l .- 
tion of the imagination ; and therefore exhibits no 
chimera or imaginary being, but a true and immu-' 
table nature, which must of necessity exist, because 
necessary existence is comprehended in the idea of 
it. Therefore there is a God, necessarily existent, 
infinitely wise, powerful and true, and possessed 
of all perfection. This Being is the maker of us 
and of all our faculties ; he cannot deceive, because 
he is infinitely perfect; therefore our faculties are 
true, and not fallacious^. — ^The same argument has 
been adopted by others, particularly by Dr. Bar- 
row. '' Cartesius," says that pious and learned 
author, ''hath well observed, that, to make us ab- 
solutely certain of our having attained the truth, it 
is required to be known, whether our faculties of 
apprehending and judging the truth, be true j— • 
which can only be known from the power, good- 
aess and truth of our Creatorf . 

^Cartesii Princip. Philos. part 1. sec. 14. 15. 1^ 
t Lect, Gcomcte. T. 



CHA?. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 149 

I object not to this argument for the divine exist- 
ence, drawn from the idea of an all-perfect being, 
of which the human mind. is conscious ; though per- 
haps this is not the most unexceptionable method of 
evincing that great truth. I allow, that when a 
man believes a God, he cannot, without absurdity 
and impiety, deny or question the veracity of his 
own faculties ; and that to acknowledge a distinc- 
tion between truA and falsehood, implies a persua- 
sion, that certain laws are established in the uni- 
verse, on which the natures of all created things 
depend, which (to me at least) is incomprehensible, 
except on the supposition of a supreme, intelligent, 
directing cause. But I acquiesce in these princi- 
'^'^s, because I take the veracity of my faculties 
V granted ; and this I feel myself necessitated to 
cit^- because I feel it to be the law of my nature 
which I cannot possibly counteract. Proceeding 
then upon this innate and irresistible notion, that 
my faculties are true, I infer by the justest reason- 
ing, that God exists : and the evidence for this 
great truth is so clear and convincing, that I can- 
not withstand its force, if I believe any thing else 
•^vhatsoever. 

" Des Cartes argues in a different manner. Be- 
cause God exists, says he, and is perfect, there- 
fore my faculties are true. Right. — But how do 
you know that God exists? I infer it from the 
second principle of my philosophy, already esta- 
blished, Cogito ergo sum. — How do you know that 
your inference is just? It satisfies my reason. — 
Your argument proceeds on a supposition, that 
what satisfies your reason is true? It does. — Do 
you not then take it for granted, that your reason 
is not a fallacious, but a true faculty? This must 
be taken for granted, otherwise the argument is 
good for nothing. And if so, your argument pro- 
ceeds on a supposition, that the point to be proved 



150 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* PART It. 

is true. In a word, you pretend to prove the truth 
of our faculties, by an argument which evidently 
and necessarily supposes their truth. Your philo- 
sophy is built on sophisms ; how then can it be ac- 
cording to common sense ? 

As this philosopher doubted where he ought to 
have been confident, so he is often confident where 
he ought to doubt. He admits not his own exist- 
ence, till he thinks he has proved it ; yet his system 
is replete with hypotheses taken for granted, with- 
out proof, almost without examination. He sets 
out with the profession of universal scepticism; 
but many of his theories are founded in the most 
unphilosophical credulity. Had he taken a little 
more for granted, he would have proved a great 
deal more : he takes almost nothing for granted, (I 
speak of what he professes, not of what he per- 
forms) ; and therefore he proves nothing. In 
geometry, however, he is rational and ingenious; 
there are some curious remarks in his discourse on 
the passions ; his physics are fanciful and plausible ; 
his treatise on music perspicuous, though superficiah 
a lively imagination seems to have been his chief 
talent ; want of knowledge in the grounds of evi*- 
dence his principal defect. 

We are informed by Father Malebranche, that 
the senses were at first as honest faculties as one 
could desire to be endued with, till after they were 
debauched by original sin; an adventure, from 
which they contracted such an invincible propen- 
sity to cheating, that they are now continully lying 
in wait to deceive us. But there is in man, it 
seems, a certain clear-sighted, stout, old faculty, 
called reason^ which, without being deceived by 
appearances, keeps an eye upon the rogues, and 
often proves too cunning for them. Malebranche 
therefore adviseth us to doubt with all our might. 
^"^ If a man has onlv learned to doubt," says he. 



CHAP. II. AN E3SAY ON TRUTH. 151 

**let him not imagine that he has made an incon- 
siderable progress^." Progress! in whati* — in 
science ? Is it not a contradiction, or at least an 
inconsistency, in terms, to say that a man makes 
progress in science by doubtingf ? If one were to 
ask the way to Dublin, and to receive for answer, 
that he ought first of all to sit down ; for that if he 
had only learned- to sit still, he might be assured, 
that he had made no inconsiderable progress in his 
journey-; I suppose he would hardly trouble his 
informer with a second question. 

It is true, this author makes a distinction be- 
tween the doubts of passion, brutality, and blind- 
ness, and those of prudence, distrust, and pene- 
tration: the former, says he, are the doubts of 
Academics and Atheists ; the latter are the doubts 
of a true philosopherf. It is true also, that he 
allows us to give an entire consent to the things that 
appear entirely evident ||. But he adopts, notwith- 
standing, the principles of Des Cartes' first philo- 
sophy. That we ought to begin our inquiries with 
universal doubt, taking only our own consciousness 
for granted, and thence inferring our existence, and 
the existence of God, and proving, from the divine 
veracity, that our faculties are not fallacious.-^ i 
Whereever it is possible that a deluding spirit may 
deceive us, there, says Malebranche, we ought to 

* Qu'on ne s'imagine pas, que I'on ait peu avance, si on a 
seulemeut appris a douter. 

La Recherche de la Verity ^ liv, 1. ch. 20- 

f Est contrarietas inter verba ^c/'uz, el dubia sunt. 

Des Cartes, Object, et Respons. septimce. 

:f Recherche de la Verite, liv. 1. ch. 20. sect. 3. 

II Qu'on ne doit jamais donner un consentement entier, qu, 
a des choses qui paroissent entierement evidentes. ■ Recherche 
de la Verite^ li'c. 1. ch. 20. sect. 3. — This is indeed a rational 
scepticism, such as Aristotle recommends, and ever/ friend 
to truth must approve. 

^ 02 



15^ AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II» 

doubt^ ; but a deluding spirit may deceive us 
wherever our memory is employed in reasoning ; 
therefore, in all such reasonings, there may be 
error. And if so, there may be error in reasoning 
of every kind ; for without memory there can be 
no reasoning: but in the truths discovered by a 
single glace, (co72noissances de simple vu'e)^ such as 
this, That two and two make four, it is not possible, 
for a deluding god, (dieu trompeur)^ however pow- 
erful, to deceive him. — It is easy to see, that such 
doctrines must lead either to sophistry or to uni- 
versal scepticism, or rather to both. For if a de- 
monstrated conclusion may be false, for any thing 
I know to the contrary, an axiom may be so too : 
my belief of the first is not less necessary, than my 
belief of the last. Intuition is, of all evidence, the 
clearest, and most immediately convincing; but 
demonstration produces absolute certainty, and full 
conviction, in the mind of him who understands 
it|, — Malebranche, indeed, acknowledges, that we 
may reason when once we know that God is no de- 
ceiver: but this, he says, must be known atLpne 
glance, (that is, I suppose, intuitively), or it can- 
not be known at all ; for all reasoning on this sub- 
ject may be fallaciousij:. 

But I do not pretend to unfold all the false and 
sceptical principles of this author's philosophy. To 
confess the truth, I do not well understand it. 
He is generally mystical : often, if I mistake not, 
self-contradictory; and his genius is strangly warp- 
ed by a superstitious veneration for the absurdities 

' * Id. liv. 6. ch. 6. 

•]-See the second chapter of the first book of the latter Ana- 
lytics of Aristotle. The great philosopher holds, that intui- 
tion and demonstration are equally productive of knowledge ; 
though the former be the first, the clearest, and most imme- 
diate evidence. 

\ Recherche de la Veri'te, liv« 6. ch. 6, 



€HAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 153 

of Popery. He rejects the evidence of sense, be- 
cause it seems repugnant to his reason ; he admits 
transubstantiation, though certainly repugnant both 
to reason and sense. Of Aristotle, and Seneca, 
and the other ancient philosophers, he says that 
their lights are nothing but thick darkness, and 
their most illustrious virtues, nothing but intoler- 
able pride^. Fy, M. Malebranche! Popery with 
all its absurdities, requires not from its adherents 
so uncandid, and so illiberal a declaration. An 
Aristotelian, of your own religion and country, 
and nearly of your own age, delivers a very differ- 
ent doctrine ; '^Aristotle, supported by philosophy, 
hath ascended by the steps of motion even to the 
knowledge of one first mover, who is God. In 
order to arrive at the knowledge of divine things, 
we must learn science, otherwise we shall fall into 
error. Philosophy and theology bear testimony 
to, and mutually confirm each other, and produce 
a more perfect knowledge of the truth ; the latter 
teaches what we ought to believe, and reason 
makes us believe it more easily, and with greater 
steadiness. They are two lights, which, by their 
union, yield a more brilliant lustre than either of 
them could yield singly, or both if separated, 
Moses learned the philosophy of the Egyptians, 
and Daniel in Babylon that of the Chaldeansf." 
This learned and judicious Peripatetic goes on to 
show, that Jerome, Augustine, Gregory of Nice, 
and Clemens Alexandrinus, entertained the same 
honourable opinion of the ancient Philosophers. — 
If Deg Cartes, and his disciple Malebranche, had 
studied the ancients more, and Indulged their own 
imagination less, they would have made a better 

* Recherche de la Verite, liv. 6. ch. 6, 

fBouju. Introduction i la Philosophie, chap, 9, Pans 
1614. folio. 



154 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

figure in philosophy, and done much more service 
to mankind. But it was their aim to decry the an- 
cients as much as possible: and ever since their 
time, it has been too much the fashion to overlook 
^he discoveries of former ages, as altogether unne- 
cessary to the improvement of the present. Male- 
branche often inveighs against Aristotle in parti- 
cular, with the most virulent bitterness ; and affects, 
on all occasions, to treat him with supreme con- 
tempt^. Had this great ancient employed his ge- 
nius in the subversion of virtue, or in establishing 
tenets incompatible with the principles of natural 
religion, he would have deserved the severest 
censure. But Malebranche lays nothing of this 
kind to his charge ; he only finds him guilty of 
some speculative errors in natural philosophy. — 
Aristotle w^as not exempted from that fallibility 
which is incident to human nature; yet it would 
not be amiss, if our modern wits would study him 
a little before they venture to decide so positively 
on his abilities and character. It is observable, 
that he is most admired by those who best under- 
stand him. Now, the contrary is true of our mod- 
ern sceptics : they are most admired by those who 
read them least, and who take their characters upon 
trust, as they find them delivered in coffee-houses, 
and drawing-rooms, and other places of fashionable 
conversation, whose doctrines do so much honour 
to the virtue and good sense of this enlightened 
age. 

I have sometimes heard the principles of the So- 
cratic school virged as a precedent to justify our 
modern sceptics. Modern scepticism is of tv/o 
kinds, unlike in their nature, though the one be 
the foundation of the other. Des Cartes begins 
with universal doubt, that in the end he may arrive 

* See Recherche de la Verite, liv. 6^ ch. 5. 



GHAP. il. AM ESSAY ©N TRUTHT. 155 

at conviction ; Hume begins with hypothesis, and 
ends with universal doubt. Now, does not Aris- 
totle propose, that all investigation should begin 
with doubt? And does not Socrates affirm, that 
he knows nothing certainly except his own igno- 
rance ? 

AH this is true. Aristotle proposes, that inves- 
tigation should begin with doubt^. He compares 
doubting to a knot, which it is the end of investi- 
gation to disintangle ; and there can be no solution, 
where there is no knot or difficulty to be solved* 
But Aristotle's doubt is quite of a different nature 
from that of Des Cartes. The former admits as 
true whatever is self-evident, without seeking to 
prove it^ nay, he affirms, that those men who 
attempt to prove self-evident principles, or who 
think that such principles may be proved, are igno- 
rant of the nature of proof f . It differs also most 
essentially from the scepticism of Mr. Hume. 
The reasonings of this author all terminate in 
doubt ; whereas Aristotle's constant aim is, to dis- 
cover truth, and establish conviction. He defines 
philosophy the Science of Truth; divides it into 
speculative and practical; and expressly declares 
that truth is the end of the former, and action of the 
latter:):. 

Cicero, in order to compliment a sect, of which, 
hov/ever, he was not a consistent disciple, ascribes 
to Socrates a very high degree of scepticism [| ; 

* Aristot. Metaphys. lib. 3.cap. 1. Avsiv ^' ex, £S"/y xyvovvrx 
Toy oscTfjiOV^ 

f Aristot. Metaphys. lib. 4. cap. 4, 



MQta^hys* lib, 2. cap, 1> 
JjCic. Academ.lib. 1. cap» 12» 






156 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

making his principles nearly the same with those 
of the New Academy, who professed to believe, 
that all things are so involved in darkness, that 
nothing can be known with certainty. The only 
difference between them, according to Cicero, in 
t|iis place, is, that Socrates affirmed, that he knew 
nothing but his own ignorance: whereas Arcesilas 
and the rest of the New Academy, held, that man 
could know nothing, not even his own ignorance, 
with certainty^ and therefore, that affirmation of 
every kind is absurd and unphilosophical. But we 
need not take this on the authority of Cicero ; as 
we have access to the same original authors from 
whom he received his information. And if we 
consult them, particularly Xenophon, the most 
unexceptionable of them all in point of veracity, 
we shall find, that the reasonings, the sentiments, 
and the conduct of Socrates, are altogether incom- 
patible with scepticism. The first science that 
engaged his attention was natural philosophy; 
which, as it was taught in those days by Zeno, 
Anaxagoras, and Xenophanes, had very little to 
recommend it to a man of sense and candovir. 
Socrates soon relinquished it, from a persuasion 
that it was at once unprofitable, and founded in 
uncertainty ; and employed the rest of his life in 
the cultivation of moral philosophy, a science 
which to him seemed more satisfactory in its evi- 
dence, and more useful in its application^. So far 
was he from being sceptical in regard to the princi- 
ples of moral duty, that he inculcated them with 
earnestness wherever he found opportunity, and 
thought it incumbent on every man to make him- 
self acquainted with them. In his reasonings, in- 
deed, he did not formally lay down any principle, 
because it was his method to deduce his conclusions 

* Xenoph. Memorab.lib. 1. cap. 1. et lib. 4 c«ip. 7. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. to'f 

from what was acknowledged by his antagonist : 
but is this any proof, that he himself did not believe 
his own conclusions ? Read the story of his life ; 
his conduct never belied his principles : observe the 
manners of our sceptics ; their conduct and princi- 
ples do mutually and invariably bely one another. 
Do you seek still more convincing evidence, that 
Socrates felt, believed, and avowed the truth? 
Read the defence he made before his judges. See 
you there any signs of doubt, hesitation, or fear? 
any suspicion of the possibility of his being in the 
WTong? any dissimulation, sophistry, or art? See 
you not, on the contrary, the utmost plainness and 
simplicity, the calmest and most deliberate forti- 
tude, and that noble assurance which so well be- 
comes the cause of truth and virtue ? Few men 
have shewn so firm an attachment to truth, as to lay 
down their life for its sake : yet this did Socrates. 
He made no external profession of any philosophi- 
cal creed; but in his death, and through the whole 
of his life, he shewed the steadiest adherence to 
principle ; and his principles were all consistent* 
Xenophon has recorded many of these ; and telis 
us, in regard to some of them, that Socrates 
scrupled not to call those men fools who differed 
from his opinion^. — The sophists of his age were 
not solicitous to discover truth, but only to confute 
an adversary^, and reason plausibly in behalf of 
their theories. That they might have the ampler 
field for this sort of speculation, they confined 
themselves, like our modem metaphysicians, to 
general topics, such as the nature of good, of beau- 
ty, and the like ; on which one may say a great 
many things with little meaning, and offer a variety 
of arguments without one word of truth. Socrates 
did much to discredit this abuse of science. In his 

*Kenoph. Memorab* lib. 1. cap. 1. passim. 



,153 AN ESSAY ON TRUT:^. PART II. 

conversatibn he did not trouble himself with the 
niceties of artificial o^vic. His aim was, not to 
confute an adversary, nor to guard against that 
verbal confutation which the sophists were perpetu- 
ally attempting, but to do good to those with whom 
he conversed, by laying their duty before them in 
a striking and persuasive manner"^. He was not 
fond of reasoning on abstract subjects, especially 
when he had to do with a sophist ; well knowing, 
that this could answer no other purpose than to fur- 
nish matter for endless and unprofitable logomachy. 
When, therefore, Aristippus asked him concern- 
ing the nature of goodf , with a view to confute, 
or at least tease him, with quibbling evasions, So- 
crates declined to answer in general terms ; and de- 
sired the sophist to limit his question, by confining 
the word good to -some particular thing. Do you 
ask me, says he, what is good for a fever, for sore 
eyes, or for hunger? No, says the sophist. If, 
replies he, you ask me concerning the nature of a 
good which is good for no particular purpose, I tell 
you once for all, that I know of none such, and 
have no desires after it. In like manner, he an- 
swers to the general question concerning beauty, 
by desiring his adversary to confine himself to 
some particular kind of beauty. What would the 
great moralist have thought of those modern meta* 
physical treatises, which seem to have nothing 
else in view, but to contrive vain and questionable 
definitions of general ideas ! Simple, certain, and 
useful truth, was the constant, and the only ob- 
ject of this philosopher's inquiry. 

Ba^o^ASvos TBS erf vovrar u<pz'kuv o ^ciJKp(xrv)f a'TFEycpivaro^ ' a v 

Xcnoph. Memorab, lib* 3. cap, 8* 
,t Id. Ibid. 



CHAP, II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 1^9 

True it is, he sometimes said, that he knew no- 
thing but his own ignorance. And surely the high- 
est attainments in human knowledge are imperfect 
and unsatisfying. Yet man knows something: So- 
crates was conscious that he knew something; 
otherwise Xenophon would not have asserted, that 
his opinions concerning God, and Providence, and 
Religion, and Moral Duty, were well known to 
all the Athenians'^. But Socrates was humble, 
jmd made no pretensions to any thing extraordinary^ 
either in virtue or in knowledge. He professed no 
science ; he instructed others, without pedantry, 
and without parade : exemplifying the beauty and 
the practicability of virtue, by the innocence and in- 
tegrity of his life, and by the charms of an instruc- 
tive, though most insinuating, conversationf. I 
shall allow our modem sceptics to avail themselves 
all they can of the authority of Des Cartes, and 
Malebranche, of Pyrrho and Anaxarchus ; but let 
them not presume to sanctify their trash with the 
venerable names of Socrates and Aristotle. 

Cicero seems to have been an Academic rather 
in nam^e than in, reality. And I am apt to think 
fi'om several passages in his works:}:, that he made 
choice of this denomination, in order to have a pre- 
tence for reasoning on either side of every question, 
and consequently an ampler field for a display of 
his rhetorical talents ||. To Pyrrho, Herillus^ 
Aristo, and other sceptics, who by asserting that 
all things are indifferent, destroy the distinction of 
virtue and vice, he will not allov/ even the name 

* Xenoph. Memorab. lib. 1. cap. 1. 

f Ibid. cap. 2. 

\See particularly Z)e Officiis, lib. 3. cap. 4. De Fato, cap. 2. 

I) See this point illustrated in Remarks upon a Discourse 
or Freethinking, &c. By Fhilekutberus Lipsienm ( Dr\ 
Bentleyjt Edit. 7th, page 272. 



160 " AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II* 

of philosopher : nay, he insinuates that it is impu- 
dence in such persons to pretend to it^. "I wish,'^ 
says he in another place, "that they who suppose 
me a sceptic were sufficiently acquainted with my 
sentiments. For I am not one of those whose mind 
wanders in error, w^ithout any fixed principle. 
For what sort of understanding must that man 
possess, what sort of life must that man lead, who, 
by divesting himself of principle, divests himself 
of the means, both of reasoning and of livingj!'^ 
Let it be observed also, that when the subject of 
his inquiry is of high importance, as in his books 
of moral duties, and on the nature of the gods, he 
follows the doctrine of the Dogmatists, particularly 
the Stoics ; and asserts his moral and religious 
principles with a warmth and energy which prove 
hftn to have been in earnest. 

2. Nothing was further from the intention of 
Locke, than to encourage verbal controversy, or 
advance doctrines favourable to scepticism. To do 
good to mankind, by inforcing virtue, illustrating 
truth, and vindicating liberty, was his sincere pur- 
pose : and he did not labour in vain. His writings 
are to be reckoned among the few books that have 
been productive of real utility to mankind. But 
candour obliges me to remark, that some of his 
tenets seem to be too rashly admitted, for the sake 
of a favourite hypothesis. That some of them 
have promoted scepticism, is undeniable. He 
seems indeed to have been sensible, that there 
were inaccuracies in his work ; and candidly owns, 
that *'some hasty and indigested thought^ on a 

* De Officiis, lib. 1. cap. 2. 

f Quibus vellem satis cognita esset nostra sententia. Non 
enim sumus ii, quorum, vagetur animus errore, nee habeat 
\mquam quid sequatur. Qux enim esset ista mens, vel quae 
vita potius, non modo disputandi, sed vivendi ratione sublata! 

O'c, de Officiis, lib, 2. cap^ 2, 



< I 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 161 

subject never before considered, gave the first en- 
trance to his Essay ; which, being begun by chance, 
was continued by intreaty, written by incoherent 
parcels, and after long intervals of neglect resumed 
again, as humour or occasion permitted"^^." 

The first book of his Essay, which, with sub- 
mission, I think the worst, tends to establish this 
dangerous doctrine, That the human mind, previ- 
ous to education and habit, is as susceptible of 
any one impression as of any other : a doctrine 
which, if true, would go near to prove, that truth 
and virtue are no better than human contrivances ; 
or, at least, that they have nothing permanent in 
their nature, but may be as changeable as the in- 
clinations and capacities of men; and that, as we 
understand the term, there is no such thing as 
common sense in the world. Surely this is not 
the doctrine that Locke meant to establish ; but his 
zeal against innate ideas, and innate principles, put 
him off his guard, and made him allow too little 
to instinct, for fear of allowing too much. This 
controversy, so far as it regards moral sentiment, 
we have examined in another place. At present 
we would only observe, that if truth be any thing 
permanent, which it must be if it be any thing at 
all, those perceptions or impulses of understanding, 
by which we become conscious of i^:, must be 
equally permanent; which the}^ould not be, if they 
depended on education, and if there were not a law 
of nature, independent on man, which determines 
the understanding in some cases to believe, in 
others to disbelieve. Is it possible to imagine, 
that any course of education could ever bring a ra- 
tional creature to believe, that two and two are 
equal to three, and that he is not the same person 
to-day he was yesterday, that the ground he stands 

* Preface to the Essay on Human Understanding;. 



162 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART H, 

on does not exist? could make him disbelieve the 
testimony of his own senses, or that of other men ? 
could make him expect unlike events in like circum- 
stances ? or that the course of nature, of which he 
has hitherto had experience, will be changed even 
when he foresees no cause to hinder its continuance? 
I can no more believe, that education could pro- 
duce such a depravity of judgment, than that edu- 
cation could make me see ail human bodies in ^n 
inverted position, or hear with my nostrils, or take 
pleasure in burning or cutting my flesh. Why 
should not our judgments concerning truth be ac- 
knowledged to result from a bias impressed upon 
the mind by its Creator, as well as our desire of 
self-preservation, our love of society, our resent- 
ment of injury, our joy in the possession of good ? 
If those judgments be not instinctive, I should be 
glad to know how they come to be universal : the 
modes of sentiment and behaviour produced by 
education are uniform, only where education is 
uniform ; but there are many truths which have 
obtained universal acknowledgmjent in all ages and 
nations. If those judgments be not instinctive, 
I should be glad to know how men find it so diffi- 
cult, or rather impossible, to lay them aside : the 
false opinions we imbibe from habit and education, 
may be, and often are, relinquished by those 
%vho make a proper use of their reason ; and the 
man who thus renounces former prejudices, upon 
conviction of their falsity, is applauded by all as a 
man of candour, sense, and spirit ; but if one were 
to suffer himself to be argued out of his common 
sense, the whole world would pronounce him a 
fool. 

The substance, or at least the foundation, of 
Berkeley '^s argument against the existence of mat- 
ter, may be found in Locke's Essay, and in the 
Priiicipza of Des Cartes. And if this argument 



GHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTHe 16 



n 



be conclusive, it proves that to be false which 
every man must necessarily believe every moment 
of his life to be true, and that to be true which 
no man since the foundation of the world was 
ever capable of believing for a single moment. 
Berkeley's doctrine attacks the most incontestible 
dictates of common sense ; and pretends to demon- 
strate, that the clearest principles of human convic- 
tion, and those v/hich have determined the judg- 
ment of all men in all ages, and by which the 
judgment of all rational men must be determined, 
are certainly fallacious. 

Mr. Hume, more siibtle, and less reserved, 
than any of his predecessors, hath gone still greater 
lengths in the demolition of common sense ; and 
reared in its place a most tremendous fabric of 
doctrine; upon which, if it were not for the fiim- 
siness of its materials, engines might easily be 
erected, sufficient to overturn all belief, science, 
religion, virtue, and society, from they very founda- 
tion. He calls this work, *' A Treatise of Human 
Nature ; being an attempt to introduce the experi- 
mental method of reasoning into moral subjects.'^ 
This is, in the style of Edmund Curl, a taking" 
title page; but, alas; " Fronti nulla fides!" The 
whole of this author's system is founded on a false 
hypothesis taken for granted ; and whenever a fact 
contradictory to that false hypothesis occurs to his 
observation, he either denies it, or labours hard to 
explain it away. This, it seems, in his judgment, 
is experimental reasoning: in mine, it is just th€ 
reverse. 

He begins his book with affirming. That all the 
perceptions of the human mind resolve themselves 
into two classes, impressions and ideas ; that the 
latter are all copied from the former ; and that an 
idea differs from its correspondent impression only 
in being a weaker perception. Thus, when I sit 

' 1? 2 



164 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART 11. 

by the fire, I have an impression of heat, and I can 
form an idea of heat when I am shivering with cold; 
in the one case I have a stronger perception of 
heat, in the other a weaken Is there any warmth 
in this idea of heat? There must, according to Mr. 
Hume's doctrine ; only the warmth of the idea is 
not quite so strong as that of the impression. For 
this profound author repeats it again and again, 
that an idea is by its nature weaker and fainter than 
an impression, but is in every other respect (not 
only similar, but) the same"^. Nay, he goes fur- 
ther, and says, that whatever is true of the one 
must be acknowledged concerning the otherf ; and 
he is so confident of the truth of this maxim, that 
he makes it one of the pillars of his philosophy. 
To those who mav be inclined to admit this maxim 
on his authority, I would propose a few plain ques- 
tions. Do you feel any, even the least, warmth, 
in the idea of a bonefire, a burning mountain, 
or the general conflagration ? Do you feel more 
real cold in Virgil's Scythian winter, than in Mil- 
ton's description of the flames of hell ? Do you ac- 
knowledge that to be true of the idea of eating, 
which is certainly true of the impression of it, that 
it alleviates hunger, fills the belly, and contributes 
to the support of human life ? If you answer these 
questions in the negative, you deny one of the fun- 
damental principles of Mr. Hume's philosophy. 
We have, it is true, a livelier perception of a friend, 
when we see him, than when we think of him in his 
absence. But this is not all: every person of a 
sound mind knows, that in the one case we believe, 
and are certain, that the object exists, and is pre- 
sent with us; in the other we believe, and are cer- 
tain, that the object is not present: which, how- 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 131. 
f Ibid. p. 41. 



CHAP. 31. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 165 

ever, Mr. Hume must deny; for he maintains, 
that an idea differs from an impression only in be- 
ing weaker, and in no other respect whatsoever. 

That every idea should be a copy and resem- 
blance of the impression whence it is derived ; — 
that, for example, the idea of red should be a red 
idea ; the idea of a roaring lion a roaring idea ; 
the idea of an ass, a hairy, long-eared, slug- 
gish idea, patient of labour, and much addicted to 
thistles ; that the idea of extension should be ex- 
tended, and that of solidity solid ; — that a thought 
of the mind should be endued with all, or any of 
the qualities of matter, — is, in my judgment, incon- 
ceivable and impossible. Yet Mr. Hume takes it 
for granted ; and it is another of his fundamental 
maxims. Such is the credulity of scepticism ! 

If every idea be an exact resemblance of its cor- 
respondent impression, (or object; for these terms 
according to this author, amount to the same 
thing"^) y — if the idea of whiteness be white, of so- 
lidity solid, and of extension extended, as the same 
author allows j ; — then the idea of a line, the short- 
est that sense can perceive, must be equal in length 
to the line itself; for if shorter, it would be imper- 
ceptible ; and it will not be said, either that an im- 
perceptible idea can be perceived, or that the idea 

of an imperceptible object can be formed: < — - 

consequently the idea of a line a hundred times as 
long, must be a hundred times as long as the for- 
mer idea ; for if shorter, it would be the idea, not 
of this, but of some other shorter line. And so it 
clearly follows, nay it admits of mathematical de- 
monstration, that the idea of an inch is really an 
inch long ; and that of a mile, a mile long. In a 
word, every idea of any particular extension is 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol, 1, p. , 362, 
t Ibid. p. 416, 4ir. 



^ 



AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I XV 

equal in length to the extended object* v. The same 
reasoning holds good in regard to the other dimen- 
sions of breadth and thickness. All ideas, there- 
fore, of solid objects, must be (according to Mr. 
Hume's philosophy) equal in magnitude and solid- 
ity to the objects themselves. Now mark the con- 
sequence. I am just now in an apartment contain- 
ing a thousand cubic feet, being ten feet square, 
and ten high ; the door and and windows are shut, 
as well as my eyes and ears. Mr. Hume will al- 
low, that, in this situation, I may form ideas, 
not only of the visible appearance, but also of the 
real tangible magnitude of the whole house, of a 
first-rate man of war, of St. Paul's cathedral, or 
even of a much larger object. But the solid mag- 
nitude of these ideas is equal to the solid magnitude 
of the objects from which they are copied: there- 
fore I have now present with me an idea, that is, 
a solid extended thing, whose dimensions extend 
to a million of cubic feet at least. The question 
now is, where is this thing placed? for a place it 
certainly must have, and a pretty large one too. I 
should answer, in my mind ; for I know not where 
else the ideas of my mind can be so conveniently 
deposited. Now my mind is lodged in a body of 
no extraordinary dimensions, and my body is con- 
tained in a room ten feet square and ten feet high. 
It seems then, that, into this room, I have it in my 
power at pleasure to introduce a solid object a 
thousand, or ten thousand, times larger than the 
room itself. I contemplate it a while, and then, 
by another volition, send it a packing, to make 
way for another object of equal or superior magni- 
tude. Nay, in no larger vehicle than a common 
post-chaise, I can transport from one end of the 
kingdom to the other, a building equal to the larg- 
est Egyptian pyramid, and a mountain as big as 
the peak of TenerifF.— Take care, ye disciples of 



CPIAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 167' 

Hume, and be very well advised before ye reject 
this mystery as impossible and incomprehensible. 
It is geometrically deduced from the principles, 
nay, from the first principles of your master. By 
denying this, you give his system such a stab as it 
cannot survive. 

Say, ye candid and intelligent, what are we to 
expect from a logical and systematic treatise found- 
ed on a supposition, that a part may be ten or a 
hundred thousand times greater than the whole? 
Shall we expect truth ? Then it must be inferred by 
false reasoning. — Shall we expect sound reasoning? 
Then surely the inferences must be false. — Indeed, 
though I cannot much admire this author's saga- 
city on the present occasion, I must confess myself 
not a little astonished at his courage. A witch 
going to sea in an egg-shell, or preparing to take 
a trip through the air on a broom-stick, would be a 
surprising phenomenon ; but it is nothing to Mr. 
Hume, on such a bottom, " launching out (as he 
somewhere expresses it) into the immense depths 
of philosophy." 

I'o multiply examples for the confutation of so 
glaring an absurdity, is really ridiculous. I there- 
fore, leave it to the reader to determine, whether, 
if this doctrine of solid and extended ideas be true, 
it will not follow, that the idea of a roaring lion 
must emit audible sound, almost, if not altogether, 
as loud and as terrible, as the royal beast in person 
could exhibit ; — that two ideal bottles of brandy 
will intoxicate as far at least as two genuine bottles 
of wine ; — and that I must be greatly hurt, if not 
dashed to pieces, if I am so imprudent, as to form 
only the idea of a bomb bursting under my feet. 
For has not our author said, that ^' impressions and 
ideas comprehend all the perceptions (or objects) 
of the human mind ; that whatsoever is true of the 
one must be acknowledged concerning the others 



168 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

nay, that they are in every respect the same, except 
that the former strike with more force than the 
latter." 

The absurdity and inconceivableness of the dis- 
tinction between objects and perceptions is another 
of our author's capital doctrines. ^' Philosophers," 
says he, '^have distinguished between objects and 
perception, of the senses ; bvit this distinction is 
not comprehended by the generality of ^nankind*'^^ 
Now how are we to know whether this distinction 
be conceived and acknowledged hy the generality?' 
If we put the question to any of them, we shall 
find it no easy matter to make ourselves under- 
stood, and, after all, perhaps be laughed at for our 
pains. Shall we reason a priori about their senti- 
ments and comprehensions ? this is often Mr. 
Hume's method ; but it is neither philosophical nor 
fair. Will you allow me to reckon myself one of 
the generality? Then I declare, for my own part, that 

*See Treatise of Human Nature, vol. I. p. '^So, 365. The 
Vfoxd perception (and the same is true of the words sensation^ 
emellf taste, and many others) has, in common language, two, 
and sometimes three, distinct significations. It means, "*. 
The thing perceived. Thus we speak of the taste of a fig, t 
6'mell of a rose. 2. The power or faculty perceiving ; as when 
we say, *' I have lost my smell by a severe cold, and therefore 
my taste is not so q^uick as usual." 3. It sometimes denotes 
that impulse or impression which is communicated to the mind 
by the external object operating upon it through the organ of 
sensation. Thus we speak of a siveet or bitter taste, a distinct 
or confusedy a clear or obscure^ sensation or perception. Most of 
our sceptical philosophers have either been ignorant of, or in- 
attentive to this distinction: Malebranche, indeed, (liv. 1. ch. 
10.) seems to have had som.e notion of it; but either I do not 
understand this author, or there is a strange obscurity and 
want of precision in almost every thing he says. Mr. Hume's 
philosophy does not allow this to be a rational distinction ; so 
that it is impossible to know precisely what he means by the 
v^ord. perception m this and many other places. I have provedg 
however, that his assertion is false, whatevej sense (con^st- 
&nX with common use) we affix to the word. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 169 

I do comprehend and acknowledge this distinction, 
and have done so ever since I was capable of re- 
flection. I remember when a child, to have had 
my fingers scorched with burning coals, and stung 
by bees : but I never confounded the object with 
the perception ; I never thought that the pain I felt 
could either make honey or melt lead. — The in- 
stance, you say, is somewhat equivocal. — Then, 
I hope the following is explicit enough. 

Suppose me to address the common people in 
these words : " I see a strange sight a little way 
off; but my sight is weak, so that I see it imper- 
fectly ; let me go nearer, that I may have a more 
distinct sight of it." If the generality of man- 
kind be at all incapable of distinguishing between 
the object and the perception, this incapacity will 
doubtless discover itself most, when ambiguous 
words are used on purpose to confound their ideas ; 
but if their ideas on this subject are not confound- 
ed even by ambiguous language, there is reason to 
think, that they are extremely clear, distinct, and 
accurate. Now I have here proposed a sentence, 
in which there is a studied ambiguity of language ; 
^^^id yet I maintain, that every person of common 
sense, who understands English, will instantly, on 
hearing these words, perceive that by the word 
sight I mean, in the first clause, the thing seen ; 
in the second the power, or perhaps the organ, of 
seeing ; in the third, the perception itself, as dis- 
tinguished both from the percipient faculty, and 
from the visible object^. If one of the multitude, 

* To every person of common sense this distinction is in 
reality and practice quite familiar. But as the words we use 
in expressing it are of ambiguous signification, it is not easy 
to write about it so as to be immediately understood by every 
reader. — The the thing seen or perceived is something perma- 
nent and external, and is believed to exist, whether perceived 
or not; the faculty of seeing or perceiving is also something 
permanent in the mind, and is believed to exist whether ex- 



170 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART li. 

on hearing me pronounce this sentence, were to 
reply as follows ; " The sight is not at all strange ; 
it is a man on horseback : but your sight must needs 
be weak, as you are lately recovered from sickness : 
however, if you wait a little till the man and horse, 
which are now in the shade, come into the sun- 
shine, you will then have a much more distinct 

sight of them :" 1 would ask, is the study of 

any part of philosophy necessary to make a man 
comprehend the meaning of these two sentences ? 
Is there any thing absurd or unintelligible either in 
the former or in the latter? Is there any thing in 
the reply, that seems to exceed the capacity of the 

tried, or not ; but what I here call the perception itself is tempo- 
rary, and is conceived to have no existence but in the mind 
that perceives it, and to exist no longer than while it is per- 
ceived ; for in being perceived, its very essence does consist; 
so that to be, and to be perceived, when predicated of it, do 
mean precisely the same thing. Thus, 1 just now see this 
paper, which I call the external object: I turn away, or shut 
my eyes, and then I see it no longer, but I still believe it to 
exist; though buried an hundred fathom deep in the earth, 
or left in an uninhabitable island, its existence would be as 
real, as if it were gazed at by ten thousand men. Again, 
when I shut my eyes or tie a bandage over them, or go into 
a dark place, 1 see no longer; that is, my faculty of seeing 
acts, or is acted upon, no longer ; but I still believe it to re- 
mam in my mind, ready to act, or to -be acted upon, when- 
ever it is again placed in the proper circumstances ; for no- 
body supposes, that by shutting our eyes, or going intp a 
dark place, we annihilate our faculty of seemg. But thirdly, 
my perception of this paper is no permanent thing: nor has it 
any existence, but while it is perceived ; nor does it at all 
exist but m the mind that perceives it ; I can put an end to, 
or annihilate it, whenever 1 please, by shutting my eyes ; and 
lean at pleasure renew it again by opening them. — It is really- 
astonishing that so many of our modern philosophers should 
have overlooked adistinction, which is of so great importance, 
that if we were unacquainted with it, a great part of human 
language would seem to be perfect nonsense. Such an 
oversight would be unpardonable in a dictionary -maker; but, 
I know not how it is, some of our philosophers have been ad- 
mired and celebrated for their acumen in committing it. 



CHAP, n, AN ESSAY ON TRXJTH. ' 1/1 

vulgar, and supposes them to be more acute than 
they really are ? If there be not, and I am certain 
there is not, here is an unquestionable proof, that 
the vulgar, and indeed all men whom metaphysic 
has not deprived of their senses, do distinguish be- 
tween the object perceived, the faculty perceiving, 
and the perception or impulse communicated by 
the external object to the mind through the organ 
of sensation. What though all the three are some- 
times expressed by the same name ? This only 
shows, that accuracy of language is not always ne- 
cessary for answering the common purposes of 
life. If the ideas of the vulgar are sufficiently dis- 
tinct, notwithstanding, what shall we say of that 
philosopher, w^hose ideas are really confounded by 
this inaccuracy, and who, because there is no dif- 
ference in the signs, imagines that there is none in 
the things signified! That the understanding of 
such a philosopher is not a vulgar one, will be rea- 
dily allowed ; whether it exceeds, or falls short, 
let the reader determine^. 

* Mr. Hume is not always consistent with himself in affirm'^ 
mgt that the vulgar do not comprehend the distinction be- 
tween perceptions and objects. *' It is not," he says, vol.1, 
p. 337, "by arguments, that children, peasants, and the 
greatest part of mankind, are induced to attribute 'objects to 
5ome impressions, and deny them to others." — So! it seems 
the greatest part of mankind do acknowledge a distinctioa 
between objects and perceptions, *' accordingly we find, that 
all the conclusions which the vulgar form on this head, are 
directly contrary to those which are confirmed by philoso- 
phy."— The more shame to that philosophy! say I. — "For 
philosophy informs us, that every thing which appears to the* 
mind, is nothing but a perception, and is interrupted, and de- 
pendent on the mind ; whereas the vulgar confound percep- 
tions and objects," — that is, i suppose, do not distinguish the 
.former from the latter. — How i in the last sentence it was 
said, that the greatest part of mankind do distinguish between 
impressions (which are a species of perceptions) and objects, 
'*and attribute a distinct continued existence to the very 
tilings they feel or see." — —So, now again the objects have ^ 



172 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II» 

This author's method of investigation is no less 
extraordinary than his fundamental principles. 
There are many notions in the human mind, of 
which it is not easy perhaps to explain the origin. 
If you can describe in words what were the cir-" 
cumstances in which you received an impression 
of any particular notion, it is well; Mr. Hume 
will ^llow that you may form an idea of it. But 
if you cannot do this, then says he, there is no such 
notion in your minds, for all perceptions are either 
impressions or ideas ; and it is not possible for us 
so much as to conceive any thing specifically dif- 
ferent from ideas and impressions^ : now all ideas 
are copied from impressions: therefore you can 
have no idea nor conception of any thing of which 
you have not received an im.pression. — All man- 
kind have a notion of power or energy. No, says 
Mr. Hume ; an impression of power or energy 
was never received by any man, and therefore an 
idea of it can never be formed in the human mind. 
If you insist on your experience and consciousness 

distinct continued existence; that is, are something dif- 
ferent from perceptions, which every body knows have 
no continued existence. Here Mr. Hume, within the com- 
pass of half a page, contradicts himself, and contradicts 
that contradiction, and finally acquiesces in the first contra- 
diction. To hunt such a writer through so many shiftings 
and doublings, is not worth the reader's while nor mine. I 
hope we both know how to employ our time to better purpose. 
How often our author may affirm and deny, and deny and af- 
firm, this doctrine, in the course of his work, I neither know 
nor care : it is certain, that, upon the whole, he holds the 
distinction between objects and perceptions to be unreasonable 
(p. 338.) unphilosophical, (ibid.), and unsupported by the e^oidence 
ofse?ise, (p. 330. — 33T.)-^ — And indeed, when this distinc- 
tion, as we have explained it, is acknowledged, and attended 
to, all Berkeley's pretended demonstration of th^ non-exist- 
ence of matter, and all Hume's reasonings against the exist- 
ence both of matter and spirit, appear to be no better than a 
play upon words. For this key unlocks that whole mystery of 
sophism and quibble. 

* Treatise of Human Ns^ture, vol. 1. p. 123. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 173 

of power, it is all a mistake : his hypothesis admits 
not the idea of power, and therefore there is no 
such idea^. — All mankind have an idea of self. 
That I deny, says Mr. Hume ; I maintain, that 
no man ever had, or can have, an impression of 
self; and therefore no man can form any idea of itf. 
If you persist, and say, that certainly you have 
some notion o** idea of yourself: My dear Sir, he 
would say, you do not consider, that this assertion 
contradicts my hypothesis of impressions and 
ideas ; how then is it possible it shoald be true ! 
This, it seems, is experimental reasoning! 

But though Mr. Hume deny, that I have any 
notion of self, surely he does not mean to affirm^ 
that I do not exist, or that I have no notion of my- 
self as an existent being. In truth, it is not easy 
to say what he means on this subject. Most phi- 
losophical subjects become obscure in the hands of 
this author ; for he has a notable talent at puzzling 
his readers and himself: but when he treats of 
consciovisness, of personal identity, and of the na- 
ture of the soul, he expresses himself so strangely, 
that his words either have no meaning, or imply a 
contradiction. " The question," says he, " con- 
cerning the substance of the soul is unintelligible j:." 
— Well, sir, if you think so, you may let it alone. 
— No ; that must not be neither. " What we call 
a mind J is nothing but a heap or collection of dif- 
ferent perceptions (or objects) united together by 
certain relations, and supposed, though falsely, to 
be endowed with perfect simplicity and identity ][. 
— If any one, upon serious and unprejudiced re- 
flection, thinks he has a different notion of himself, 
I must confess I can reason with him no longer. 
All that I can allow him is that he may be in the 

* Treatise of Human Nature, voL 1. p. 282. 
t Ibid. p. 437, 438. 
• iflbid. p 434, 435, 
II Ibid. p. 361, 362. 



^74 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

right as well as I, and that we are essentially dif- 
ferent in this particular. He may perhaps per- 
ceive something simple and continued, which he 
calls himself; though I am certain there is no such 
principle in me. But setting aside some metaphy^ 
sicians of this kind," — that is, who feel and be- 
lieve, that they have a soul,- " I may venture to 

affirm of the rest of mankind, that they are no- 
thing but a bundle or collection of different per- 
ceptions, which succeed each other with inconceiv- 
able rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux and 

movement. There is properly no simplicity in 

the mind at one time, nor identity in different 
(times), whatever natural propension we may have 
to imagine that simplicity and identity.- — They are 
the successive perceptions only that constitute the 
mind."=^ 

If these words have any meaning, it is this : My 
soul (or rather that which I call my soul) is not 
one simple thing, nor is it the same thing to-day it 
was yesterday ; nay, it is not the same this mo- 
ment it was the last ; it is nothing but a mass, col- 
lection, he^p, or bundle, of different perceptions, 
or objects, that fleet away in succession, with in- 
conceivable rapidity, perpetually changing, and 
perpetually in motion. There maybe some meta- 
physicians to whose souls this description cannot 
be applied; but I (Mr. Hume) am certain, that 
this is a true and complete description of my soul, 
and of the soul of every other individual of thq 
human race, those few metaphysicians excepted. 

That body has no existence but as a bundle of 
perceptions, whose existence consists in their be- 
ing perceived, our author all along maintains. He 
nojiv affirms, that the soul, in like manner, is a bun- 
dle oi perceptions, and nothing else. It follows,^ 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 438, 439a ^^Q* 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. IT^ 

then, that there is nothing in the universe but im- 
pressions and ideas ; all possible perceptions being 
by our author comprehended in those two classes. 
This philosophy admits of no other existence what- 
soever, nor even of a percipient being to perceive 
these perceptions. So that we are now arrived at 
the height of human wisdom ; at that intellectual 
eminence, from w^hence there is a full prospect of 
all diat we can reasonably believe to exist, and of 
all that can possibly become the object of our 
knowledge. Alas ! what is become of the magni- 
ficence of external nature, and the wonders of in- 
tellectual energy, the immortal beauties of truth 
and virtue, and the triumphs of a good conscience ! 
Where now the warmth of benevolence, the fire of 
generosity, the exultations of hope, the tranquil 
ecstasy of devotion, and the pang of sympathetic 
delight! All, around, above, and beneath, is one 
vast vacuity, or rather an enormous chaos, encom- 
passed with darkness universally and eternally im- 
penetrable. Body and spirit are utterly annihi 
lated; and there remains nodiing (for we must 
again descend into the gibberish of metaphysic) 
but a vast collection, bundle, mass, or heap, of un- 
perceived perceptions. 

Such, if Mr. Hume's words have any meaning, 
is the result of his system. And what is this re- 
sult? If he, or his admirers, can prove, that there 
is a possibility of expressing it in words which do 
not imply a contradiction, I will not call it non- 
sense. If he or they can prove, that it is compa- 
tible with any one acknowledged truth in philoso- 
phy, in morals, in religion natural or revealed, I 
will not call it impious. If he or they can prove, 
that it does not ^.rlsQ Jrom common facts misrepre" 
sented^ and common words misunderstood^ I shall 
admit that it may have arisen from accurate ob- 



i76 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, PART I^. 

servation, candid and liberal inquiry, perfect know- 
ledge of human nature, and the enlarged views of 
true philosophic genius. 



SECT. 11. 

Of the Non-existence of Matter. 

IN the preceding section I have taken a slight 
survey of the principles, and method of investiga- 
tion, adopted by the most celebrated promoters of 
modern scepticism. And it appears that they 
have not attended to the distinction of reason and 
common sense, as explained in the first part of this 
Essay, and as acknowledged by mathematicians 
and natural philosophers. Erroneous, absurd, and 
self-contradictory notions, have been the conse- 
quence. And now, by entering into a more parti- 
cular detail, we might easily shew, that many of 
those absurdities that disgrace the philosophy of 
human nature, would never have existed, if men 
had acknowledged and attended to this distinction ; 
regulating their enquiries by the criterion above* 
mentioned, and never prosecuting any chain of ar- 
gument beyond the self-evident principles of com- 
mon sense. We shall confine ourselves to two in- 
stances ; one of which is connected with the evi- 
dence of external sense, and the other with that of 
internal. 

That matter or body has a real, separate, inde- 
pendent existence ;* that there is a real sun above- 
us, a real air around us, and a real earth under our 

* By independent existenccy we mean an existence that does- 
^ot depend on us, nor so far as we know, on any being, ex- 
cept the Creator. Berkeley, and others, say, that matter 
exists not but in the minds that perceive it ; and consequently 

^epcixdsj in respect of iti e^stence^ upon thof e mind?. 



QHAP. It. ANESSAY ONTRUTH. ^ 17V 

feet ; has been the belief of all men who were not 
mad, ever since the creation. This is believed, 
not because it is or can be proved by argument, 
but because the constitution of our nature is such 
that we must believe it. There is here the same 
ground of belief, that there is in the following pro- 
positions: I exist; whatever is, is; two and two 
make four. It is absurd, nay, it is impossible, to 
believe the contrary. I could as easily believe^ 
that I do not exist, that two and two are equal ta 
ten, that whatever is, is not; as that I have nei- 
ther hands, nor feet, nor head, nor clothes, nor 
house, nor country, nor acquaintance; that the 
sun, moon, and stars, ocean and tempest, thunder 
and lightning, mountains, rivers, and cities, have 
no existence but as ideas or thoughts in my mind, 
and, independent on me and my faculties, do not 
exist at all, and could not exist if I were to be an- 
nihilated ; that fire, and burning, and pain, which 
I feel, and the recollection of pain that is past, and 
the idea of pain which I never felt, are all in the 
same sense ideas or perceptions in my mind, and 
nothing else ; that the qualities of matter are not 
qualities of matter, but affections of spirit; and 
that I have no evidence that any being exists iu 
nature but myself. Philosophers may say what 
they please ; and the world, who are apt enough 
to admire what is monstrous, may give them cre- 
dit; but I affirm, that it is not in the power, either 
of wit or of madness, to contrive any conceit more 
inconsistent, more absurd, or more nonsensical, 
than this, that the material world has no existence 
but in my mind. 

Des Cartes admits, that every person must be 
persuaded of the existence of a material world : 
but he does not allow this point to be self-evident, 
or so certain as not to ^dmit of doubt; because, 
says he, we find in expedience, that our senses are 



178 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II, 

sometimes in an error, and because, in dreams we 
often mistake ideas for external things really exist- 
ing. He therefore begins his philosophy of bodies 
with a formal proof of the existence of body^. 

But however imperfect, and however fallacious, 
we acknowledge our senses to be in other matters, 
it is certain, that no mail ever thought them falla- 
cious in regard to the existence of body : nay, 
every man of a sound mind, is, by the law of his 
nature, convinced, that, in this respect at least, 
they are not, and cannot be mistaken. Men have 
sometimes been deceived by sophistical argument, 
because the human understanding is in some, and 
indeed in many respects fallible ; but does it fol- 
low, that we cannot, without proof, be certain of 
any thing, not even of our own existence, nor of 
the truth of a geometrical axiom ? Some diseases 
are so fatal to the mind, as to confound men's no- 
tions even of their own identity ; but does it fol- 
low, that I cannot be certain of my being the same 
person to-day I was yesterday, and twenty years 
ago, till I have first proved this point by argument? 
And because we are sometimes deceived by our 
senses, does it therefore follow, that we never are 
certain of our not being deceived by them, till we 
have first convinced ourselves by reasoning, that 
they are not deceitful i" — If a Cartesian can prove, 
that there have been a few persons of sound under- 
standing, who from a conviction of the deceitful- 
iiess of their senses, have really disbelieved, or 
seriously doubted, the existence of a material 
world, I shall allow a conviction of this deceitful- 
ness to be a sufficient ground for such doubt or dis- 
belief, in one or a few instances ; and if he can 
prove that such doubt or disbelief has at any time 
been general among mankind, I shall allow that it 

* Cartesii Principia, part 1. sect. 4. part 2. sect. 1, 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 173 

may possibly be so again ; — ^but if it be certain, as 
I think it is, that no man of a sound mind, however 
suspicious of the veracity of his senses, ever did or 
could really disbelieve, or seriously doubt, the ex- 
istence of a material world, then is this point self- 
evident, and a principle of common sense, even on 
the supposition that our senses are as deceitful as 
Des Cartes and Malebranche choose to represent 
them. But we have formerly proved, that our 
senses are never supposed to be deceitful, except 
when we are conscious, that our experience is par- 
tial, or our observation inaccurate ; and that even 
then, the fallacy is detected, and rectified, only by 
the evidence of sense placed in, circumstances 
more favourable to accurate observation. In re- 
gard to the existence of matter, there cannot pos- 
sibly be a suspicion, that our observation is inaccu- 
rate, or our experience partial ; and therefore it is 
not possible, that ever we should distrust our senses 
in this particular. If it were possible, our distrust 
could never be removed either by reasoning or by 
experience. 

As to the suspicion against the existence of 
matter that is supposed to arise from our experi- 
ence of the delusions of dreaming; we observe, 
in the first place, that if this be allowed a sufficient f 
ground for suspecting, that our waking perceptions 
are equally delusive, there is at once an end of all 
truth, reasoning and common sense. That j am 
at present awake, and not asleep, I certainly know; 
but I cannot prove it : for there is no criterion for 
distinguishing dreaming fancies from waking per- 
ceptions, more evident, than that I am now awake, 
which is the point in question ; and, as we have 
often remarked, it is essential to every proof, to be 
more evident than that which is to be proved. 
That I am now awake, must therefore carry its 
own evidence along with it ; if it be evident at alt. 



180 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II.. 

it must be self-evident. And so it is : we may- 
mistake dreams for realities, but no rational being 
ever mistook a reality for a dream. Had we the 
command of our understanding and memory in 
sleep, we should probably be sensible, that the ap- 
pearances of our dreams are all delusive : which, 
in fact is sometimes the case : at least I have some- 
times been conscious, that m.y dream was a dream ; 
and when it was disagreeable, have actually made 
efforts to awake myself, which have succeeded. 
But sleep has a wonderful power over all our facul- 
ties. Sometimes we seem to have lost our moral 
faculty; as when we dream of doing that, without 
scruple or remorse, which when awake we could 
not bear to think of. Sometimes memory is extin- 
guished ; as when we dream of conversing with 
our departed friends without remembering any 
thing of their death, though it was, perhaps, one 
of the most striking incidents we had ever experi- 
enced, and is seldom or never out of our thoughts 
when we are awake. Sometimes our understand- 
ing seems to have quite forsaken us ; as when we 
dream of talking with a dead friend, remembering 
at the same time that he is dead, but without being 
conscious of any thing absurd or unusual in the 
circumstance of conversing with a dead man. Con- 
sidering these and the other effects of sleep upon 
the mind, we need not be surprised, that it should 
cause us to mistake our own ideas for real things, 
and be affected with those in the same manner as 
with these. But the moment we awake, and recover 
the use of our faculties, we are sensible that the 
dream was a delusion, and that the objects which 
now solicit our notice are real. To demand a rea- 
son for the implicit confidence we repose in our 
waking perceptions ; or to desire us to prove, that 
things are as they appear to our waking sensed, 
and not as they appear to us in sleep, h as unrea- 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAT ON TRUTH. 181 

sonable as to demand a reason for our belief in our 
own existence : in both cases our belief is necessary 
and unavoidable, the result of a law of nature^ and 
what we cannot in practice contradict, but to our 
shame and perdition. 

If the delusions of dreaming furnish any reason- 
able pretence for doubting the authenticity of our 
waking perceptions, they may, with equal reason, 
make me doubtful of my own identity : for I have 
often dreamed that I was a person different from 
what I am ; nay, that I was two or more distinct 
persons at one and the same time. 

Further: If Des Cartes thought an argument 
necessary to convince him, that his perception of 
the external world was not imaginary, but real, 
I would ask, hov/ he could know that his argu- 
ment was real, and not imaginary. How could he 
know that he was awake, and not asleep, when he 
wrote his principles of philosophy, if his waking 
thoughts did not, previous to all reasoning, carry 
along with them undeniable evidence of their real- 
ity? I am awake^ is a principle which he must 
have taken for granted, even before he could satisfy 
himself of the truth of what he thought the first of 
all principles, Cogito^ ergo sum. — To all which we 
may add, that if there be any persons in the world 
who never dream at all"^, (and some such I think 
there are), and whose belief in the existence of a 
material world is not a whit stronger than that of 

*'* I once knew a man,'* says Mr. Locke, "who was bred 
a scholar, and had no bad memory, who told me, that he had 
never dreamed in his life, till he had that fever he was then 
newly recovered of, which w as about the five or six and 
twentieth year of his age. I suppose the world affords more 
such instances." 

Essay on Human Undertandtng, book 2. cb. 1. 

A young gentleman of my acquaintance never dreams at all, 
except when his health is disordered. 



182 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART IT, 

those whose sleep is always attended with dream- 
ing j this is a proof from experience, that the de- 
lusions of sleep do not in the least affect our con- 
viction of the authenticity of the perceptions we 
receive, and of the faculties we exert, when awake. 

The first part of Des Cartes' argument for the 
existence of bodies, would prove the reality of the 
visionary ideas we perceive in dreams; for they, 
as well as bodies, present themselves to us, inde- 
pendent on our will. But the principal part of his 
argument is founded in the veracity of God, which 
he had before inferred from our consciousness of 
the idea of an infinitely perfect, independent, and 
necessarily-existent being; Our senses inform us 
of the existence of body ; they give us this inform- 
ation in consequence of a law estabhshed by the 
divine will : but God is no deceiver ; therefore is 
their information true. I have formerly given my 
opinion of this argument, and shewn that it is a 
sophism, as the author states it. We must believe 
our faculties to be true, before we can be convinc- 
ed, either by proof, or by intuitive evidence. If 
we refuse to believe in our own faculties, till their 
veracity be first ascertained by reasoning, we shall 
never believe in them at all'^. 

Malebranchef says, that men are more certain 
of the existence of God, than of the existence of 
body. He allows, that Des Cartes has proved the 
existence of body by the strongest arguments that 
reason alone could furnish ; nay, he seems to ac- 
knowledge those arguments to be unexceptionable:]:; 

* See the preceding section. 

t Recherche de la verite, torn. 3. p. 20. A Paris, chez 
Pralard, 1679. 

:|. Mais quoique M. Des Cartes ait donne les preuves le plus 
fortes que la raison toute seule puisse fournir pour I'existence 
des corps ; quoiqu' il soit evident, que Dieu n'est point trom^ 
peur, et qu'on puisse dire qu*il aous tromperoit efFectivement, 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 



183 



yet he does not admit that thejr amount to a full 
demonstration of the existence of matter. In phi- 
losophy, says he, we ought to maintain our liberty 
as long as we can, and to believe nothing but what 
evidence compels us to believe. To be fully con- 
vinced of the existence of bodies, it is necessary 
that we have it demonstrated to us, not only that 
there is a God, and that he is no deceiver, but 
also that God hath assured us, that he has actually 
created such bodies; and this, says he, I do not 
find proved in the works of M. Des Cartes. 

There are, according to Malebranche, but two 
ways in which God speaks to the mind, and com- 
pels (or obliges) it to believe ; to wit, by evidence, 
and by the faith. '^ The faith obliges us to believe 
that bodies exist ; but as to the evidence of this 
truth, it certainly is not complete : and it is also 
certain, that we are not invincibly determined to 
believe, that any thing exists, but God, and our 
own mind. It is true, that we have an extreme 
propensity to believe, that we are surrounded 
with corporeal beings; so far I agree v/ith M. 
Des Cartes: but this propensity, natural as it is, 
doth not force our belief by evidence ; it only in- 
clines us to believe by impression. Now we ought 
not to be determined, in our free judgments, by 
any thing but light and evidence ; if we suffer our- 

si nous nous trompions nous-memes faisant Tusage que nous 
devons faire de notre esprit, et des autres facultez dont il est 
Tauteur ; cependant on peut dire que Texistence de la matiere 
n'est point encore parfaitement demontree. Car, enfin, en 
matiere de philosophic, nous ne devons croire quoique ee soit, 
que lorsque l^ evidence nous y oblige. Nous devons faire usage 

de notre liberte autant que nous le pouvons. Pour etre 

pleneiment convaincus qu'il a des corps, il faut qu*on nous de- 
montre, non seulement qu'il y a un Dieu, et que Dieu n'est 
point trompeur, mais encore que Dieu, nous a assure qu'il en 
a efFectivement cree : ce que je ne trouve point prouve dans 
ies ouvrages de M. Des Cartes Tonu 3. />. 37, 38, 39. 

R 



1 84 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART 11* 

selves to be guided by the sensible impression, we 
shall be alntiost always mistaken^." Our avithor/ 
then proposes, in- brief, the substance of that ar- 
gument against the existence of body which Berke- 
ley afterwards took such pains to illustrate ; and 
and discovers, upon the whole, that, as a point 
of philosophy the existence of matter is but a pro- 
bability, to which we have it in our power either 
to assent, or not to assent, as we please. In a 
word, it is by the faith, and not by evidence, that 
we become certain of this truth. 

This is not a proper place for analysing the pas- 
sage above quoted, otherwise it would be easy to 
show, that the doctrine (such as it is) which the 
author here delivers, is not reconcileable with 
other parts of his system. But I only mean to 
observe, that what is here asserted of our belief in 
the existence of body being not necessary, but 
such as we may with-hold. if we please, is contrary 
to my experience. That my body, and this pen 
and paper, and the other corporeal objects around 
me, do really exist, is to me as evident, as that 
my soul exists ; it is indeed so evident, that no** 

*Dieun€ parle a Tesprlt, etneroblige a^roire qu'en deux 
jnanieres: par revidence, et par la foi. Je demeure d'accord, 
qwe la Joi oblige 3. croire qu*il y a des corps; mais pour Tevi- 
dence, il est certain, qu'elle n'est point entiere, et que nous ne 
sommes point invinciblement portez a croire qu'il y ait quelqu' 
autre chose que Dieu et notre esprit. II est vray, que nous 
avons un penchant extreme a croire qu'il y a des corps qui nous 
environnent. Je I'accorde a M- Des Cartes: mais ce penchant, 
tout naturel qu'il est, ne nous y force point par evidence; il 
nous y incline seulementpar impression. Or nous ne devons 
suivre dans nos jugemens fibres que la lumiere et I'evidence ; 
et si nous nous laissons conduire a I'impression sensible, nous 
nous tromperons presque toujours. Tom. 3, p, 39. — La foi I 
translate Tbefoitb, because I suppose the author to mean, the 
Christian or Catholic foitb. If we take it to denote foith or belief 
in general, I know not how we shall make any sense of the 
passage. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 18j^ 

thing is or can be more so ; and though my life de- 
pended upon the consequence, I could not, by 
any effort, bring myself to entertain a doubt of it, 
even for a single moment. 

I must therefore affirm, that the existence of 
matter can no moi*e be disproved by argument, 
than the existence of myself, or than the truth of 
a self-evident axiom in geometry. To argue 
against it, is to set reason in opposition to com- 
mon sense ; which is indirectly to subvert the 
foundation of all just reasoning, and to call in 
question the distinction between truth and false- 
hood. We are told, however, that a great philo- 
sopher has actually demonstrated, that matter does 
not exist* Demonstrated! truly this is a piece of 
strange information. At this rate, any falsehood 
may be proved to be true, and any truth to be 
false. For it is impossible, that any truth should 
be more evident to me than this, that matifer does 
exist* Let us see, however, what Berkeley has 
to say in behalf of this extraordinary doctrine. It' 
is natural for demonstration, and for all sound rea- 
soning, to produce conviction, or at least some 
degree of assent, in the person who attends to it, 
and understands it. I read The Principles of Hit- 
man Knowledge^ together with The Dialogues be- 
tween Hylas and Philonous. The arguments I 
confess, are subtle, and well adapted to the pur- 
pose of puzzling and confounding. Perhaps I will 
not undertake to confute them. Perhaps I am 
busy, or indolent, or unacquainted with the prin- 
ciples of this philosophy, or little versed in your 
metaphysical logic. But am I convinced, from 
this pretended demonstration, that m.atter has no 
existence but as an idea in the mind? Not in the 
least ; my belief now is precisely the same as be- 
fore. — Is it unphilosophical, not to be convinced 
by arguments which I am not abje to confute ^ 



186 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

Perhaps it may, but I cannot help it : you may, 
if you please, strike me off the list of philosophers, 
as a non-conformist ; you may call me unpliant, 
imreasonable, unfashionable, and a man with whom 
it is not worth while to argue : but till the frame of 
my nature be unhinged, and a new set of faculties 
given me, I cannot believe this strange doctrine, 
because it is perfectly incredible. But if I were 
permitted to propose one clownish question, I 
would fain ask. Where is the harm of my continu- 
ing in my old opinion, and believing, with the rest 
of the world, that I am not the only created being 
in the universe, but that there are many others, 
whose existence is as independent on me, as mine 
is on them ? Where is the harm of my believing, 
that if I were to fall dow^n yonder precipice, and 
break my neck, I should be no more a man of this 
world? My neck. Sir, may be an idea to you, but 
to me it is a reality, and an important one too. 
Where is the harm of my believing, that if in this 
severe weather, I were to neglect to throw (what 
you call) the idea of a coat over the ideas of my 
shoulders, the idea of cold would produce the idea 
of such pain and disorder as might possibly termi- 
nate in my real death? What great offence shall I 
commit against God or man, church or state, phi- 
losophy or common sense, if I continue to believe, 
that material food will nourish me, though the idea 
of it will not; that the real sun will warm and en- 
lighten me, though the liveliest idea of him will do 
neither; and that, if I would obtain true peace of 
mind and self-approbation, I must not only form 
ideas of compassion, justice, and generosity, but also 
really exert those virtues in external performance? 
What harm is there in all this? — O! no harm at all. 
Sir; — ^but — the truth, — ^the truth,— will you shut 
your eyes against the truth? — No honest man ever 
will : convince me that your doctrine is true, and I 
will instantly embrace it. — Have I not convinced 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* 187 

thee, thou obstinate, unaccountable, inexorable ?— 
Answer my arguments, if thou canst. — Alas, Sir, 
you have given me arguments in abundance, but you 
have not given me conviction ! and if your argu- 
ments produce no conviction, they are worth no- 
thing to me. They are like counterfeit bank-bills ; 
some of which are so dexterously forged, that nei- 
ther your eye nor mine can detect them : yet a 
thousand of tliem would go for nothing at the bank; 
and even the paper-maker would allow me more 
handsomely for old rags. You need not give your- 
self the trouble to tell me, that I ought to be con- 
vinced : I ought to be convinced only when I feel 
conviction ; when I feel no conviction, I ought not 
to be convinced.- — It has been observed of some 
doctrines and reasonings, that their extreme absur- 
dity prevents their admitting a rational confutation* 
What? am I to believe such doctrine? am I to be 
convinced by such reasoning? Now, I never heard 
of any doctrine more scandalously absurd, than 
this of the non-existence of matter. There is not 
a fiction In the Persian tales that I could not as 
easily believe ; the silliest conceit of the most con- 
temptible superstition that ever disgraced human 
nature, is not more shocking to common sense, is 
not more repugnant to every principle of human 
belief. And must I admit this jargon for truth, be- 
cause I cannot confute the arguments of a man 
who is a more subtle disputant than I ? Does phi- 
losophy require this of me ? Then it must suppose, 
that truth is as variable as the fancies, the charac- 
ters, and the intellectual abilities of men, and that 
there is no such thing in nature as common sense. 

But all this, I shall perhaps be told, is but child- 
ish cavil, and unphilosophical declamation. What 
if, after all, this very doctrine be believed, and the 
sophistry (as you call it) of Berkeley be admitted 
as sound reasoning, and legitimate proof ? What. 



188 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II,. 

then becomes of your common sense, and your in- 
stinctive convictions ? — What then, do you ask ? 
Then indeed I acknowledge the fact to be very ex- 
traordinary ; and I cannot help being in some pain 
about the consequences, which must be important 
and fatal. If a man, out of vanity, or from a de- 
sire of being in the fashion, or in order to pass for 
wonderfully wise, shall say, that Berkeley's doc- 
trine is true, while at the same time his belief is 
precisely the same with mine it is well ; I leave 
him to enjoy the fruits of his hypocrisy, which will 
no doubt contribute mightily to his improvement 
in candour, happiness, and wisdom. If a man pro- 
fessing this doctrine act like other men in the com- 
mon affairs of life, I will not believe his profession 
to be sincere. For this doctrine, by removing bo- 
dy out of the universe, makes a total change in the 
circumstances of men; and therefore if it is not 
merely verbal, must produce a total change in 
their conduct. When a man is only turned out 
of his house, or stripped of his clothes, or robbed 
of his money, he must change his behaviour, and 
act differently from other men, who enjoy these 
advantages. Persuade a^man that he is a beggar 
and a vagabond, and you shall instantly see him 
change his manners. If your arguments against 
the existence of matter have ever carried convic- 
tion along with them, they must at the same time 
have produced a much more extraordinary change 
of conduct ; but if they have produced no change 
of conduct, I insist on it, they have never carried 
conviction along with them, whatever vehemence 
of protestation men may have used in avowing 
such conviction. If you say, that though a man's 
understanding be convinced, there are certain in- 
stincts in his nature that will not permit him to al- 
ter his conduct ; or, if he did, the rest of the world 
would account him a mad-man ; by the first apo- 



CHAP. II. AN- ESSAY ON TRUTH* 1^9 

logy, you allow the belief of the non-existence of 
body to be inconsistent with the laws of nature ; 
by the second, to be inconsistent with common 
sense. 

But if a man be convinced, that matter has no 
existence, and believe this strange tenet as steadi- 
ly, and with as little distrust, as I believe the con- 
trary ; he will, I am afraid, have but little reason 
to applaud himself on this new acquisition in 
science; he will soon find, it had been better for 
him to have reasoned, and believed, and acted^ 
like the rest of the world. If he fall down a pre- 
cipice, or be trampled under foot by horses, it will 
avail him little, that he once had the honour to be 
a disciple of Berkeley, and to believe that those 
dangerous objects are nothing but ideas in the 
mind. And yet, if such a man be seen to avoid a 
precipice, or to get out of the way of a coach and 
six horses at fall speed, he acts as inconsistently • 
with his belief, as if he ran away from the picture 
of an angry man, even while he believed it to be a i 
picture. Supposing his life preserved by the care 
of friends, or by the strength of natural instinct 
urging him to act contrary to his belief; yet will 
this belief cost him dear. For if the plainest evi- 
dence, and fullest conviction, be certainly fallaci- 
ous, I beg to be informed, what kind of evidence, 
and what degree of conviction, may reasonably be 
depended on. If nature be a juggler by trade, is 
it for us, poor purblind reptiles, to attempt to pene- 
trate the mysteries of her art, and take upon us to 
decide, when it is she presents a true, and when a 
false appearance ! I will not say, however, that 
this man runs a greater risk of universal scepti« 
cism, than of universal credulity. Either the one 
or the other, or both, must be his portion; and 
either the one or the other would be sufficient to 
imbitter my whole life, and to disqualify me for 



190 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART IT. 

every duty of a rational creature. He who can be- 
lieve against common sense, and against the clear- 
est evidence, and against the fullest conviction, in 
any one case, may do the same in any other; con- 
sequently he may become the dupe of every 
wrangler who is more acute than he ; and then, if he 
is not entirely secluded from mankind, his liberty, 
and happiness, are gone for ever. Indeed a cheer- 
ful temper, strong habits of virtue, and the compa- 
ny of the v/ise and good, may still save him from 
perdition, if he have no temptations nor difficulties 
to encounter. But it is the end of every useful art, 
to teach us to surmount difficulties, not to disquali- 
fy us for attempting them. Men have been known 
to live many years in a warm chamber, after they 
were become too delicate to bear the open air; 
but who will say, that such a habit of body is de- 
sirable? what physician will recommend to the 
healthy such a regimen as would produce it ? 

But, that I may no longer suppose, what I main^ 
tain to be impossible, that mankind in general, or 
even one rational being, could, by force of argu- 
ment, be convinced, that this absurd doctrine is 
true ; — what if all men were in one instant deprived 
of their understanding by Almighty power, and 
made to believe, that matter has no existence but 
as an idea in the mind, all other earthly things re- 
maining as they are ? — Doubtless this catastrophe 
would, according to our metaphysicians, throw a 
wonderful light on all the parts of knowledge. I 
pretend not even to guess at the number, extent, 
or quality, of astonishing discoveries that would 
then start forth into view. But of this I am cer- 
tain, that in less than a month after, there could 
not, without another miracle, be one human crea- 
ture alive on the face of the earth. 

Berkeley foresaw, and has done what be could 
to obviate, some of these objections. There are 



GHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 191 

two points which he has taken great pains to prove* 
The first is, That his system differs not from the 
belief of the rest of mankind ; the second, That 
our conduct cannot be in the least affected by our 
disbelief of the existence of a material world. 

1. As to the first, it is certainly *false. Mn 
Hume himself seems willing to give it up. I have 
known many who could not answer Berkeley's ar- 
guments ; I never knew one who believed his doc- 
trine. I have mentioned it to some who were un- 
acquainted with philosophy, and therefore could 
not be supposed to have any bias in favour of 
either system ; they all treated it as most contemp- 
tible jargon, and what no man in his senses ever 
did or could believe. I have carefully attended to 
the effects produced by it upon my own mind ; and 
it appears to me at this moment, as when I first 
heard it, incredible and incomprehensible. I say 
incomprehensible: for though, by reading it over 
and over, I have got a set of phrases and argu« 
ments by heart, which would' enable me, if I were 
so disposed, to talk, and argue, and write, " about 
it and about it ;" yet, when I lay systems and syl- 
logisms aside, when I enter on any part of the bu- 
siness of life, or when I refer the matter to the un- 
biassed decision of my own mind, I plainly see^ 
that I had no distinct meaning to my words when 
I said, that the material world has no existence but 
in the mind that perceives it. In a word, if this 
author had asserted, that I and all mankind ac- 
knowledge and believe the Arabian Nighfs Enter- 
tainment to be a true history, I could not have had 
any better reason contradicting this, " That Berke- 
ley's principles in regard to the existence of mat- 
ter, differ not from the belief of the rest of man- 
kind." 

2. In behalf of the second point he argues, 
*' That nothing gives us an interest in the material 



193 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. FART 11-. 

world, except the feelings pleasant or painful which 
accompany our perceptions ; that these perceptions 
are the same, whether we believe the material 
world to exist or not to exist ; consequently, that 
our pleasant or painful feelings are also the same ; 
and therefore, that our conduct, which depends on 
our feelings and perceptions, must be the same, 
whether we believe or disbelieve the existence of 
matter.'' 

But if it be certain, that by the law of our nature 
we are unavoidably determined to believe that mat- 
ter exists^ and to act upon this belief, (and nothing, 
I think is more certain), how can it be imagined, 
that a contrary belief would produce no alteration 
in our conduct and sentiments? Surely the laws of 
our nature are not such trifles, as that it would be a 
matter of perfect indiiference, whether we act and 
think agreeably to them or not ? I believe that 
matter exists ; — I must believe that matter exists ; 
— I must continually act upon this belief; such is 
the law of my constitution. Suppose my consti- 
tution changed in this respect, all other things re- 
maining as they are ; would there then be no change 
in my sentiments and conduct? If there would not, 
then is this law of nature, in the first place, useless, 
because men could do as well without it ; secondly, 
inconvenient, because its end is to keep us igno- 
rant of the truth ; and, thirdly, absurd, because in- 
sufficient for answering its end, the Bishop of 
Cloyne, and others, having, it seems, discovered 
the truth in spite of it. Is this according to the 
usual economy of Nature ? Does this language 
become her servants and interpreters ? Is it pos- 
sible to devise any sentiments or maxims more 
subversive of truth, and more repugnant to the spi- 
rit of true philosophy ? 

Further: All external objects have some qualities 
in common i but between an external object and ai^ 



CHAP. !!• AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 19 



cy 



idea, or thought of the mind, there is not, there can- 
not possibly be, any resemblance. A grain of sand, 
and the globe of the earth ; a burning coal, and a 
lump of ice ; a drop of ink, and a sheet of white 
paper, resemble each other, in being extended, solid^ 
figured, coloured, and divisible ; but a thought or 
idea has no extension, solidity, figure, colour, nor 
divisibility : so that no two external objects can be 
so unlike, as an external object and (what philoso- 
phers call) the idea of it. Now we are taught by 
Berkeley, that external objects, (that is, the things 
we take for external objects) are nothing but ideas 
in our minds ; in other words, that they are in every 
respect different from what they appear to be. 
This candle, it seems, hath not one of those quali- 
ties it appears to have : it is not white, nor lumi^ 
nous, nor round, nor divisible, nor extended ; for 
to an idea of the mind, not one of these qualities 
can possibly belong. How then shall I know what it 
really is ? From what it seems to be, I can conclude 
nothing ; no more than a blind man, by handling a 
bit of black wax, can judge of the colour of snow^ 
or the visible appearance of the starry heavens. 
The candle may be an Egyptian pyramid, the king 
of Prussia, a mad dog, or nothing at all : it may be 
the island of Madagascar, Saturn's ring, or one of 
the Pleiades, for any thing I know, or can ever 
know to the contrary, except you allow me to judge 
of its nature from its appearance ; which, however, 
I cannot reasonably do, if its appearance and nature 
are in every respect so different and unlike as not to 
have one single quality in common. I must there- 
fore believe it to be, what it appears to be, a real, 
corporeal, external object, and so reject Berke- 
ley's system ; or I never can, with any shadow of 
reason, believe any thing whatsoever concerning it. 
Will it yet be said, that the belief of this system 
cannot in the least aScct our sentiments and con-- 



194 An essay on truth. part ii. 

duct ? With equal truth may it be said, that New- 
ton's conduct and sentiments would not have been 
in the least affected by his being metamorphosed 
into an idiot, or a pillar of salt. 

Some readers may perhaps be dissatisfied with 
this reasoning, on account of the ambiguity of the 
words external object and idea ; which, however, 
the assertors of the non-existence of matter have 
not as yet fully explained. Others may think that I 
must have misunderstood the author; for that he 
was too acute a logician to leave his system exposed 
to objections so decisive, and so obvious. To gra- 
tify such readers, I will not insist on these objec- 
tions. That I may have misunderstood the author's 
doctrine, is not only possible, but highly probable ; 
nay, I have reason to think, that it was not perfect- 
ly understood even by himself. For did not Berke- 
ley write his Principles of Human Knowledge^ 
with this express view, (which does him gre .1 ho- 
nour), to banish scepticism both from science and 
from religion ? Was he not sanguine in his expec- 
tations of success ? And has not the event proved, 
that he was egregiously mistaken ? For is it not 
evident, from the use to which later authors have 
applied it, that his system leads directly to atheism 
and universal scepticism ? And if a machine disap- 
point its inventor so far as to produce effects con- 
trary to those he wished, intended, and expected ; 
may we not, without breach of charity, conclude, 
that he did not perfectly understand his plan ? At 
any rate, it appears from this fact, that our author 
did not foresee all the objections to which his theory 
is liable. He did not foresee that it might be 
made the foundation of a sceptical system ; if he 
had, we know he would have renounced it with ab- 
horrence. 

This one objection therefore, (in which I think I 
cannot be mistaken), will fully ansvfer my present 



KSHAP. II* AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 1^$ 

purpose : Our author's doctrine is contrary to com- 
mon belief, and leads to universal scepticism. Sup- 
pose it, then, universally and seriously adopted ; 
suppose all men divestfed of all belief, and conse- 
quently of all principle : would not the dissolution 
of society, and the destruction of mankind necessa- 
rily ensue ? 

Still I shall be told, that Berkeley was a good 
man, and that his principles did him no hurt. I al- 
low it ; he was indeed a most excellent person : 
none can revere his memory more than I. But does 
it appear, that he ever acted according to his prin- 
ciples, or that he thoroughly understood them ? 
Does it appear, that, if he had put them in practice, 
no hurt would have ensued to himself^, or to soci- 
ety ? Does it appear, that he was a sceptic, or a 
friend to scepticism ? Does it appear, that men 
may^, adopt his principles without danger of be- 
commg sceptics I The contrary of all this appears 
with incontrovertible evidence. 

Surely pride was not made for man. The most 
Exalted genius may find in himself many affecting 
memorials of human frailty, and such as often ren- 
der him an object of compassion to those who in vir- 

^ Let it not be pretended, that a man may disbelieve his 
Senses without danger of inconvenience. Pyrrho (as we read 
in Diogenes L.aertius) professed to disbelieve his senses, and 
to be in no apprehension from any of the objects that affected 
them. The appearance of a precipice or wild beast was no- 
thing to Pyrrho; at least he said so: he would not avoid them-; 
he knew they were nothing at all, or at least that they were 
not what they seemed to be. Suppose him to have been in 
earnest ; and suppose his keepers to have in earnest adopted 
the same principles : would not their limbs and lives have 
been in as great danger, as the limbs and life of a blind, and 
deaf man wandering by himself in a solitary place, v/ith his 
hands tied behind his back? I would as soon say, that our 
senses are useless faculties, as that we might disbelieve theiti 
•without danger of inconvenience. 



196 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

tue and understanding are far inferior. I pity Berke- 
ley's weakness in patronising an absurd and dan- 
gerous theory ; I doubt not but it may have over- 
cast many of his days with a gloom, which neither 
the approbation of his conscience, nor the natural 
serenity of his temper, could entirely dissipate. 
And though I were to believe, that he was intoxi- 
cated with this theory, and rejoiced in it ; yet still I 
should pity the intoxication as a weakness : for can*- 
dour will not permit me to give it a harsher name> 
as I see in his other writings, and know by the tes- 
timony of his contemporaries, particularly Pope and 
Swift, that he was a friend to virtue, and to human 
nature. 

We must not suppose a false doctrine harmless, 
merely because it has not been able to corrupt the 
heart of a good man.. Nor, because a few sceptics 
have not authority to render science contemptible, 
nor pov/er to overturn society, must we suppose, 
that therefore scepticism is not dangerous to science 
or mankind. The effects of a general scepticism 
would be dreadful and fatal. We must therefore, 
notwithstanding our reverence for the character of 
Berkeley, be permitted to affirm, what we have 
sufficiently proved, that his doctrine is subversive 
of man's most important interests, as a moral, intel- 
ligent, and percipient being. 

After all, though I were to grant, that the dis- 
belief of the existence of matter could not produce 
any considerable change in our principles of action 
and reasoning, the reader will find in the sequel^, 
that the point I have chiefly in view would not be 
much affected even by that concession. I say not 
this, as being diffident or sceptical in regard to what 
I have advanced on the present subject. Doctrines 
which I do not believe, I will never recommend to 

* Part 2, chap. 3. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 197 

Others. I am absolutely certain, that to me the belief 
of Berkeley's system would be attended with the 
most fatal consequences ; and that it would be 
equally dangerous to the rest of mankind, I cannot 
doubt, so long as I believe their nature and mine to 
be the same. 

Though it be absurd to attempt a proof of what 
is self-evident, it is manly and meritorious to con- 
fute the objections that sophistry may urge against 
it. This, with respect to the subject in question, has 
been done, in a decisive and masterly manner, by 
the learned and sagacious Dr. Reid^ ; who proves, 
that the reasonings of Berkeley, and others, con- 
cerning primary and secondary qualitiesf, owe all 
their strength to the ambiguity of words. I have 
proved, that, though this fundamental error had 
never been detected, the philosophy of Berkeley is 
in its own nature absurd, because it supposes the 
original principles of common sense controvertible 
and fallacious : a supposition repugnant to the ge- 

* Inquiry into the Human Mind on the Principles of Corti- 
mon Sense. 

t Des Cartes, Locke, and Berkeley suppose, that what we 
call a body is nothing but a collection of qualities ; and these 
they divide into primary 2ii[\d secondary. Of the former kind 
are magnitude, extension, solidity, &,c. which Locke and the 
Cartesians allow to belong to bodies at all times, whether per- 
ceived or not. Of the latter kind are the heat of fire, the 
smell and taste of a rose, &c. and these, by the same authors, 
and by Berkeley, are said to exist not in the bodies themselves, 
but only in the mind that perceives them : an error they are 
led into by supposing, that the words heat^ taste ySJTielly &c. sig« 
nify nothing but a perception; wheY^2is we have formerly shown, 
that they also signify an external tbitig. Berkeley, following 
the hints which he found in Des Cartes, Malebranche and 
Locke, has applied the same mode of reasoning to prove, that 
primary, as well as secondary qualities, have no external ex 
istence ; and consequently, that body (which consists of these 
two classes of qualities, and nothing else) exists only as an idea 
in the mind that perceives it, and exists no longer than while 
it is perceived. 



198 AN ESSAY eN TRUTH* FART 11* 

Hius of true philosophy ; and whkh leads to, uni- 
versal credulity, or universal scepticism ; and, 
consequently, to the subversion of knowledge and 
virtue, and the extermination of the human spe- 
cies. 

It is proper, before we proceed to the next in^ 
stance, to make a remark or two on what has been 
said. 

1. Here we have an instance of a doctrine ad- 
vanced by some philosophers, in direct contradic«» 
tion to the general belief of all men in all ages. 

2. The reasoning by which it is supported, 
though long accounted unanswerable, did never pro- 
duce a serious and steady conviction. Common 
sense still declared the doctrine to be false ; we 
v/ere sorry to find the powers of human reason so 
limited, as not to afford a logical confutation of it ; 
•we were convinced it merited confutation, and flat- 
tered ourselves, that one time or other it would b^ 
confuted. 

3. The real and general belief of this doctrine 
would be attended with fatal consequences to sci- 
ence, and to human nature : for this is a doctrine 
according to which a man could not act nor reason 
in the common affairs of life, w^ithout incurring the 
charge of insanity or folly, and involving himself 
in distress and perdition. 

4. An ingenious man, from a sense of the bad 
tendency of this doctrine, applies himself t^ exa- 
mine the principles on which it is founded ; dis- 
covers them to be erroneous ; and proves, to the 
full conviction of all competent judges, that from 
beginning to end it is all a mystery of falsehood, 
arising from the use of ambiguous expressions, and 
from the gratuitous admission of principles which 
never could have been admitted if they had been 
thoroughly understood, 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* 199 

SECT. III. 

Gf Liberty and Necessity* 

THE second instance to which I purpose to ap- 
ply the principles of this discourse, by showing the 
danger of carrying any investigation beyond the dic- 
tates of common sense, is no other than the cele- 
brated question concerning liberty and necessity ; a 
question on which many things have been said, and 
some things, I presume, to litde purpose. To enter 
into all the particulars of this controversy, is foreign 
to my present design -, and I would not wish to add 
to a dispute already too bulky. My intention is, to 
treat the doctrine of necessity as I treated that of 
the non-existence of matter ; by enquiring, whether 
the one be not, as well as the other, contrary to 
common sense, and therefore absurd. 

!• That certain intentions and actions are in 
themselves, and previous to all consideration of 
their consequences, good, laudable, and meritori- 
ous ; and that other actions and intentions are bad, 
blameable, and worthy of punishment, — has been 
felt and acknowledged by all reasonable creatures 
in all ages and nations. We need not wonder at 
the universal) tv of this sentiment : it is as natural 

ml 

to the human constitution, as the faculties of hear- 
ing, seeing, and memory ; it is as clear, unequivo- 
cal, and affecting, as any intimation from any sense 
external or internal. 

2. That we cannot do some things, but have it in. 
our power to do others, is what no man in his senses 
will hesitate to affirm. I can take up my staff from 
the ground, but I cannot lift a stone of a thousand 
weight. On a common, I may walk southward or 
northward, eastward or westward ; but I cannot as- 
cend to the clouds^ nor sink downward to the ceii- 

s 2 - 



200 AN E&SAY ON TRIj'TH. PART U^ 

tre of the earth. Just now I have power to think 
of an absent friend, of the Peak of TenerifFe, of a 
passage in Honker, or of the death of Charles I. 
When a man asks me a question, I have it in my 
power to answer or be silent, to answer softly or 
roughly, in terms of respect or in terms of con- 
tempt. Frequent temptations to vice fall in my 
way ; I may yield, or I may resist : if I resist, I 
applaud myself, because I am conscious it was in 
my power to do otherwise ; if I yield, I am filled 
with shame and remorse, for having neglected to do 
what I might have done, and ought to have done. 
My liberty in these instances I cannot prove by ar- 
gument ; but there is not a truth in geometry of 
which I am more certain. 

Is not this doctrine sufficiently obvious ? Must 
I quote Epictetus, or any other ancient author, to 
prove that men were of the same opinion in former 
times ? No idea occurs more frequently in my read- 
ing and conversation, than that oi power or agency; 
and I think I understand my own meaning as well 
nvhen I speak of it, as when I speak of any thing- 
else. But this idea has had the misfortune to come 
under the examination of Mr. Hume, who, accord- 
ing to custom, has found means so to darken and 
disfigure it, that, till we have cleared it of his mis- 
representations, we cannot proceed any further in 
the present subject. And we are the more inclined 
to digress on this occasion, that he has made his 
theory of power the ground of some atheistical in- 
ferences, which we should not scruple at any time 
to step out of our way to overturn. — Perhaps these 
frequent digressions are offensive to the reader : 
they are equally so to the writer. To remove rub- 
bish is neither an elegant nor a pleasant work, but 
it is often necessary. It is peculiarly necessary in 
the philosophy of human nature. The road to moral 
, truth has been left in such a plight by some modern 



CHAP. !!• AN ESSAY ON TRITTH. 201 

projectors, that a man of honesty and plain sense 
must either, with great labour, and loss of time, 
delve his way through, or be swallowed up in a 
quagmire. The metaphysician advances more 
easily. His levity, perhaps, enables him, like Ca- 
milla in Virgil, to skim along the surface without 
sinking ; or perhaps, the extreme subtlety of his 
genius can, like Satan in Paradise Lost, penetrate 
this chaos, without being much incumbered or re- 
. tarded in his progress. But men of ordinary talents 
have not those advantages, and must therefore be 
allowed to flounce along, though with no very grace- 
ful motion, the best way they can. 

All ideas, according to Mr. Hume's fundamental 
hypothesis, are copied from and represent impres- 
sions : But we have never any impression that con- 
tains any power or efficacy: We never, therefore, 
have any idea of power^. In proof of the minor 
proposition of this syllogism, he remarks, "That 
when v/e think we perceive our mind acting on 
matter, or one piece of matter acting upon another, 
we do in fact perceive only two objects or events 
contiguous and successive, the second of which is 
alv/ays found in experience to follow the first; 
but that we never perceive, either by external 
sense, or by consciousness, that power, energy, or 
efficacy, which connects the one event with the 
other. By observing that the two events do al- 
ways accompany each other, the imagination ac- 
quires a habit of going readily from the first to the 
second, and from the second to the first ; and hence 
we are led to conceive a kind of necessary con- 
nexion between them. But in fact there is neither 
necessity nor power in the objects we consider, but 
only in the mind that considers them ; and even in 
the mind, this power of necessity is nothing but a 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 282. 



.^. 



202 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II* 

determination of the fancy, acquired by habit, t6 
pass from the idea of an object to that of its usual 

attendant^." So that what we call the efficacy 

of a cause to produce an effect, is neither in the 
cause nor in the effect, but only in the imagination, 
which has contracted a habit of passing from the 
object called the cause, to the object called the 
effect, and thus associating them together. Has 
the fire a power to melt lead I No ; but the fancy 
is determined by habit to pass from the idea of fire 
to that of melted lead, on account of our having 
always perceived them contiguous and successive — 
and this is the whole matter. Have I a power to 
move my arm ? No ; the volition that precedes 
the motion of my arm has no connexion with that 
motion ; but the motion having been always observ- 
ed to follow the volition, comes to be associated 
with it in the fancy; and what we call the power; 
or necessary connexion, has nothing to do either 
with the volition or with the motion, but is merely 
a determination of my fancy, or your fancy, or any 
body's fancy, to associate the idea or impression of 
my volition with the impression or idea of the 
motion of my arm. — I am sorry I cannot ex- 
press myself more clearly; but I should not do 
justice to my author, if I did not imitate his obscu- 
rity on the present occasion: plain words will 
never do when one has an unintelligible doctrine 
to support. 

What shall we say to this collection of strange 
phrases? or what name shall we give it? Shall we 
call it a most ingenious discovery, illustrated by a 
most ingenious argument? This would be compli- 
menting the author at a very great expense ; for 
this would imply, not only that Mr. Hume is the 
wisest of mortal men, but also that he is the only 
individual of that species of animals who is not a 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 2T2 SOO. 



tHAP. II* AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 1203 

fooL Certain it is, that all men have in all ages 
talked, and argued, and acted, from a persuasion 
that they had a very distinct notion of power. If 
our author can prove, that they had no such notion, 
he can also prove, that all human discourse is non- 
^sense, all human actions absurdity, and all human 
compositions (his own not excepted) words without 
meaning. The boldness of this theory, will, how- 
ever, pass with many, for a proof of its being in- 
genious. Be it so, Gentlemen, I dispute not 
about epithets ; if you will have it, that genius con- 
sis teth in the art of putting words together so as to 
form absurd propositions, I have nothing more 
to say. Others will admire this doctrine, because 
the words by which the author means to illustrate 
and pro\^e it, if printed on a good paper, and with 
an elegant type, would of themselves make a pret- 
ty sizeable volume. It were pity to deprive these 
people of the pleasui-e of admiring; otherwise I 
might tell them^ that nothing is more easy than 
this method of composition ; for that I would un- 
dertake, at a very short warning, (if it could be 
done innocently, and without prejudice to my 
health), to w^rite as many pages, with equal appear- 
ance of reason and argument, and with equal ad- 
vantage to philosophy and mankind, in vindication 
of any given absurdity : provided only, that (like 
the absurdity in question) it were expressed in 
words of which one at least is ambiguous. 

In truth, I am so little disposed to admire this 
extraordinary paradox, that nothing could make 
me believe its author to have been in earnest, if I 
had not found him drawing inferences from it too 
serious to be jested with by any person who is not 
absolutely distracted. It is one of Mr. Hume's 
maxims, That we can never have reason to believe, 
that any object, or quality of an object, exists^ of 



204 An essay on truth. part ii. 

which we cannot form an idea^. But, according 
to this astonishing theory of power, and causation, 
we can form no idea of power, nor of any being 
endowed with any power, much less of one endow- 
ed with infinite powerj. The inference is what 

I do not choose to commit to paper. But our ele- 
gant author is not so superstitious, H^ often puts 
his readers in mind, that this inference, or some- 
thing very Hke it, is deducible from his doctrine:(; : 
— —for which, no doubt, exery friend to truth, 
virtue, and human nature, is infinitely obliged to 
him ! 

But what do you say in opposition to my theory ? 
You afl^ect to treat it v/ith a contempt which hardly 
becomes you, and which my philosophy has not 
met with from your betters ! pray let us hear your 
Arguments. — And do you, Sir, really think it in- 
cumbent on me to prove it by argument, that I, 
and all other men, have a notion of power ; and 
that the efficacy of a cause (of fire, for instance, 
to melt lead) is in the cause, and not in my mind ? 
Would you think it incumbent on me to confute you 
with arguments, if you were pleased to affirm, that 
all men have tails and cloven feet ; and that it was 
I who produced the earthquake that destroyed 
Lisbon, the plague that depopulates Constanti- 
nople, the heat that scorches the wilds of Africa, 
and the cold that freezes the Hyperborean ocean? 
Truly, Sir, I have not the face to undertake a di- 
rect confutation of what I do not understand ; and 
I am so far from comprehending this part of your 
system, that I will venture to pronounce it perfect- 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 302. 

f Some readers will smile perhaps, at the phraseology of 
this sentence; but I quote the author's own words. See 
Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 432. 

I Treatise of Human Nature, p. 284, 291, 306, 431; 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY OlST TRUTH. 20$ 

ly unintelligible. I know there are some who say 
they understand it; but I also know, that there are 
some who speak, and read, and write too, with 
very little expense of thought. 

These are all but evasions, you exclaim ; and 
insist on my coming to the point. Never fear, 
Sir; I am too deeply interested in some of the 
consequences of this theory of yours, to put you 
off with evasions. To come therefore to the point, 
I shall first state your doctrine in your own words, 
that there may be no risk of misrepresentation ; 
and then if I should not be able directly to prove it 
false, (for the reason already given), I shall de- 
monstrate, indirectly at least, or by the apagogical 
method, that it is not, and cannot possibly be 
true. 

" As the necessity," says Mr. Hume, " which 
makes two times two equal to four, or three an- 
gles of a triangle equal to two right ones, lies only 
in the act of the understanding, by which we con- 
sider and compare these ideas^, in like manner, 
the necessity or power which unites causes and 
effects, lies in the determination of the mind to 
pass from the one to the other. The efficacy, or 
energy, of causes is neither placed in the causes 
themselves, nor in the Deity, nor in the concur- 
rence of these two principles; but belongs entire- 
ly to the soul, which considers the union of two or 
more objects in all past instances. It is here that 
the real power of causes is placed along with their 
connexion and necessityf." 

• What ! is it my understanding" that makes two and two 
equal to four ! Was it not so before I was born, and would it 
not be so though ail intelligence were to cease throughout the 
universe : — But it is idle to spend time in confuting what eve- 
ry child who has learned the very first elements of science^ 
knows to be absurd. 

t Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 1. p. 291,, 



306' AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART 11. 

To find that his principles lead to atheism, 
would stagger an ordinary philosopher, and make 
him suspect his fundamental hypothesis, and all 
his subsequent reasonings. But the author now 
quoted is not staggered by considerations of this 
kind. On the contrary, he is so intoxicated with 
his discovery, that, however sceptical in other 
points, he seems willing to admit this as one cer- 
tain conclusion^'. 

If a man can reconcile himself to atheism, which 
is the greatest of all absurdities, I fear, I shall 
hardly put him out of conceit with his doctrine, 
when I show him that other less enormous absur- 
dities are implied in it. We may make the trial 
however. Gentlemen are sometimes pleased to 
entertain unaccountable prejudices against their 
Maker ; who yet, in other matters, where neither 
fashion nor hypothesis interfere, condescend to ac- 
knowledge, that the good old distinction between 
truth and falsehood is not altogether without foun- 
dation. 

On the supposition that we have no idea of pow- 
er or energy, and that the preceding theory of 

^* Speaking of it in another place, he says, '* A conclusion 
which is somewhat extraordinary, but which seems founded 
on sufficient evidence. Nor will its evidence be weakened by 
any general diffidence of the understanding, or sceptical sus- 
picion, concerning every conclusion which is new or extraor- 
dinary. No conclusion can be more agreeable to scepticism 
than such as make discoveries concerning the weakness and 
narrow limits of human reason and capacity." 

Hume^s Essays, vol. 2. />. 87. ediu 176T. 
I know not what discoveries this conclusion may lead others 
to make concerning our author's reason and capacity : but I 
have some ground to think, that in him it has not wrought 
any extraordinary self-abasement; otherwise he would not 
have asserted, with so much confidence, what he acknow- 
ledges to be a most 'violent par adox, and what is indeed contra- 
ry to the experience and conviction of every person of com- 
mon sense. See Treatise of Human Nature ^ vol, 1. p» 291, 
29,9. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ©N TRUTH. 207 

causation is just, our author gives thp following 
definition of a cause ; which seems to be fairly 
enough deduced from his theorj^, and which he 
says is the best that he can give. ^' A cause is an 
object precedent and contiguous to another, and so 
united with it, that the idea of the one determines 
the mind to form the idea of the other, and the im- 
pression of the one to form a more lively idea of 
the other'^." There are now in my view two con- 
tiguous houses, one of which was built last sum- 
mer, and the other two years ago. By seeing* 
them constantly together for several months, I 
find, that the idea of the one determines my mind 
to form the idea of the other, and the impression 
of the one to form a more lively idea of the other. 
So that, according to our author's definition, the 
One house is the cause, and the other the effect ! — 
Again, day and night have always been contigu- 
ous and successive ; the imagination naturally runs 
from the idea or impression of the one to the idea 
of the other : consequently, according to the same 
profound theory and definition, either day is the 
cause of night, or night the cause of day, just as 
we consider the one or the other to have been ori- 
ginally prior in time: that is, in other words, light 
is either the cause or the effect of darkness; and 
its being the one or thz other, depends entirely on 
my imagination ! Let those admire this discover 
ry who understand it. 

Causationf implies more than priority and con« 
tiguity of the cause to the effect. This relation 
cannot be conceived at all, without a supposition of 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol.1, p. 298. 

■f Causation in Mr. Hume's style, denotes the relation qfcau^n^ 
and effect. In English authors, the word rarely occurs, and 
never, I think, in this sense. It properly signifies, 2^/t>e act or' 
fioiver of causing. 



'208 >AN ESSAY ON TEUTH. VAKT II. 

power or energy in the causef . Let the reader re- 
collect two things that stand related as cause and 
effect ; let him contemplate them with a view to 
this relation ; then let him conceive the cause di- 
vested of all powder ; and he must at the same in- 
stant conceive, that it is a cause no longer : for a 
cause divested of power, is divested of that by 
which it is a cause. If a man, after examining his 
notions of causation in this manner, is conscious 
that he has an idea of power, then I say he has 
that idea. If all men, in all ages, have used the 
v^^ord poxver, or something synonymous to it, and 
if all men know what they mean when they speak 
of power, I maintain, that all men- have a notion, 
conception, or idea of power, in whatever way they 
came by it : and I also maintain, that no true phi- 
losopher ever denied the existence or reality of any 
thing, merely because he could not give an account 
of its origin, or because the opinion commonly re- 
ceived concerning its origin did not happen to 
quadrate with his system. 

When, therefore, Mr. Hume says, that the effi- 
cacy or energy of causes is not placed in the causes 
themselves, he says neither less nor more than 
this, that what is essential to * a cause is not in a 
cause ; or, in other w^ords, — that a cause is not a 
cause. — Are there any persons who, upon the au- 
thority of this theorist, have rashly adopted atheis- 
tical principles? I know there are such. Ye 
blinded followers of a blind guide, ye dupes of un- 
meaning words and incomprehensible arguments, 
behold on what a champion ye have placed yovir 
confidence ! All the comfort I can give you is, 
that if it be possible for the same thing at tiie same 

4 Non sic causa intelligi debet, lit qiiod cuique antecedat id 
ei causa sit, sed quod cuique effciejiter antecedat. 

\ Cicero Be Fat o. cap. IS^ 



€HAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2^9 

time to be and not to be, you may possibly be in 
the right. 

It follows from what has been said, that we can- 
not admit this theory of power and causation, with- 
out admitting, at the same time, the grossest and 
most impious absurdities. Is this a sufficient con- 
futation of it? I think it is. If any person think 
otherwise, I take a shorter method, and utterly de~ 
ny all the premises from which this strange con« 
elusion is supposed to result. I deny the doctrine 
of impressions and ideas, as the author has explain- 
ed it ; nay, I have already affirmed, and proved 
it to be not only false, but unintelligible. And I 
maintain, that though it could be shown, that all 
simple ideas are derived from impressions, or in- 
timations of sense, it is true, notwithstanding, that 
all men have an idea of power. They get it by 
experience, that is, by intimations of sense, both ex- 
ternal and internal. Their mind acting upon their 
body gives them this notion or idea; their body 
acting on other bodies, and acted on by other bo- 
dies, gives them the same idea; which is also sug- 
gested by all the effects and changes they see pro- 
duced in the universe. So thoroughly are we ac- 
quainted with it, that we can in cases innumerable,, 
determine, with the utmost accuracy and ce^'tain- 
ty, the degree of power necessary to produce a 
given effect. ' * 

I repeat, therefore, notwithstanding all our au- 
thor has said, or can say, to the contrary, that so me 
things are in our power, and others are not ; and 
that we perfectly ^understand our own meaning 
when we say so.— That the reader may not lose 
any chain in our reasoning, he will please to look 
back to the second and third paragraphs of this 
section. 

3. By attending to my own internal feelhigs, 
and to the evidence given by other men of theirs-, 



^10 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART !tt« 

I am sensible, that I deserve reward or punish- 
ment for those actions only which are in my own 
power, I am no more accountable for the evil 
which I can neither prevent nor remedy, than for 
the destruction of Troy, or the plagvies of Egypt ; 
and for the good which happens by my means, 
but against my will, I no more deserve reward or 
praise, than if I were a piece of inanimate matter. 
This is the doctrine of common sense ; and this 
doctrine has in all ages been supported by some of 
the most powerful principles of our nature; by 
principles which, in the common aifairs of life, no 
man dares suppose to be equivocal or fallacious. 
A man may as well tell me that I am blind, or 
deaf, or that I feel no heat when I approach the 
fire, as that I have not a natural sentiment dispose- 
ing me to blame intentional injury, and to praise 
intentional beneficence ; and which makes me feel 
and be conscious, that the evil I am compelled to 
do is not criminal, and that the good I perform 
against my will is not meritorious. That other 
men are conscious of the same sentiment, I know 
with as much certainty as I can know any thing of 
what passes in the mind of other men ; for I have 
daily and hourly opportunities of making observa- 
tions in regard to this very point. The greatest 
part of conversation turns upon the morality of hu- 
man actions ; and I never yet heard any person se- 
riously blamed or applauded, by a reasonable crea- 
ture, for an action in the performance of which he 
was not considered as a free agent^. The most 

* Si omnia fato fiunt, omnia fiunt causa antecedente ; et, si 
appetitus, ilia etiam quse appetiUim sequuntur: ergo, etian\ 
assensiones. At si causa appetiuis non est sita in nobis, we 
ipse quidem appetitus est in nostra protestate. Quod si ita 
est, ne ilia quidem quee appetitu efficiuntur sunt sita in nobis. 
Non sunt igitur, neque assensiones neque actiones, in nostra 
potestate ; ex quo effichur, ut nee laudatignes Jtcst(G sint, nee vitih 



CHAP, II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2M 

rigid Predestinarians suppose freedom of will to 
be in one way or other consistent with eternal and 
unconditional decrees: if they cannot explain in 
what way, — they call it a mystery; it surpasses 
their understanding ; — but it must be so^ for other- 
wise the morality of actions is altogether incon- 
ceivablef. Do the interests of science^ or of vir- 
tue, suffer by this representation of the matter? I 
think not. But some philosophers, not satisfied 
with this view of it, are for bringing the sentiment 
of moral liberty to the test of reason. They want 
to prove by argument, either that I have, or that I 

perationes, nee honores^ nee supplicia. Quod cum vitiosura sit^ 
probabiliter concludi putant, non omnia fato fieri quaecumque 
flant. 

Cicero y Ue Fato, cap. 17. 

f The reader, I hope, does not think me sueh a noviee in 
reasoning, as to urge the judgment of the council of Trent in 
behalf of any doctrine, philosophical or religious. Yet every 
fact in logic and morals is worth our notice, if we would es- 
tablish those sciences on their only firm foundation, the uni- 
versal consent and practice of mankind: It deserves, there- 
fore, to be remarked, that, at the Reformation, this consci- 
ousness of free will was acknowledged both by the LutheranSj 
and by the church of Rome, to be a principle of cornmoii 
sense, which was to be ascertained not by reasoning, but by 
experimental proof. So says a most judicious and elegant 
historian, whose words are remarkably apposite to the pre= 
sent subject, and to the manner in which we treat it. Sjoeak^ 
ing of some articles said to be maintained by the Lutherans j 
in opposition to free will, the historian informs us, thatj in the 
judgment of many of that celebrated council, the opinion im- 
plied in these articles, " E empia, e biasfema contra Dio.— - 
Ch' era. una pazzia co/zfrai/ seiiso comwie^ esperhnentando ognl 
buomo la propria libertd, che non merita contestations, may cotnine 
Ari-stotele dicey o castigo, a prova esperime?itaie. Che i mede- 
simi discepoli dri T^uthero s'erano. accorti della pazzia ; e» 
moderando I'assurdita, dissero poi^ esservi liberta nell'huomo 
in quello, che tocca ie attioni esterne politiche edeconomiche, 
e quanto a4 ogniglustitia civile ; le quali e sciocco chi non co^ 
nosce 'venir dal ^^■onseglioedellettione; restringendosi a negar la 
iiberta quanta alia sola- giustitia divina." htarladel Concilm, 
Irid, di P, Sarpi, lib, 2. 

T 2 . 



2l2 AN ESSAY ON TRUl'H. PART II. 

have not, such a feeling: or, if I shall be found to 
have it, they want to know whether it be fallacious 
or not. In other words, they want to prove or to 
disprove, what I know by instinct to be unques- 
tionably certain ; or they want to inquire, whether 
it be reasonable for me to act and think according 
to a principle, which, by the law of my nature, I 
cannot contradict, either in thought or action. 
Would not the same spirit of inquiry lead a geo- 
metrician to attempt a proof or confutation of his 
axioms ; a natural philosopher to doubt whether 
things be what his senses represent them ; an or- 
dinary man to argue concerning the propriety of 
perceiving colours by the eyes, and odours by the 
nostrils ? Would not the same spirit of doubt and 
disputation, applied to more familiar instances, 
transform a philosopher into a madman, and a per- 
son of plain sense into an idiot? 

But let us not be too rigid. If a philosopher 
must needs have his rattles and playthings, let 
him have them : only, for his own sake, and for 
the sake of the neighbours, I would advise, that 
edge-tools, and other- dangerous instruments of 
amusement, be kept out of his reach. If a Carte- 
sian will not, on any account, believe his own ex- 
istence, except I grant him his Cogito^ ergo sum^ 
far be it from me to deprive the poor man of that 
consolation. The reasoning indeed is bad, but the 
principle is good ; and a good principle is so good 
a thing, that rather than oblige a man to renounce 
it, I would dispense with the strict observance of 
a logical precept. If a star-gazer cannot see the 
inhabitants of the moon with one perspective, let 
hini' tie a score of them together, with all my 
heart. If a virtuoso is inclined to look at the sun 
through a microscope, and at a rotten cheese 
through a telescope, to apply ear-truinpets to his 
eyesj and equip his two ears with as many pairs of 



CHAP, II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 213 

spectacles, he has my full permission ; and much 
good may it do him. These amusements are idle, 
but they are innocent. The Cartesian, if the truth 
were known, would be found neither the better 
nor the worse for his enthymeme. The star-gazer 
has not atchieved a single glimpse of his lunar 
friends, but sees more confusedly than before : 
however he may console himself with this reflection, 
that one may pass through life with the character 
of a very honest and tolerably happy man, though 
he should never have it in his power to extend the 
sphere of his acquaintance beyond this sublunary 
globe. The virtuoso takes a wrong, and indeed a 
very preposterous method, for improving his sight 
and hearing; but if he is careful to confine these 
frolics to his private apartment, and never boast in 
public of his auditory, or optical apparatus, he 
may live comfortably and respectably enough, 
though he should never see the spots in the sun, 
nor the bristles on a mite's back. 

I would however, earnestly exhort my friend 
the metaphysician, to believe himself a free agent 
upon the bare authority of his feelings, and not to 
imagine that Nature is such a bungler in her trade, 
as first to intend to impose upon him, and then 
inadvertently give him sagacity to see through the 
imposture. Indeed, if it were a matter of indif- 
ference, whether we believe our moral feelings or 
disbelieve them, I should not object to the use of 
a little unbelief now and then, by way of experi- 
ment or cordial, provided it were a thing that a 
reasonable man could take any pleasure in. But I 
am convinced, that habitual dram-drinking, is not 
more pernicious to our animal nature, than habit- 
ual scepticism to our rational. And when once 
this scepticism comes to affect our moral senti- 
ments, or active principles, all is over with us : we 



214 AN IlSSAY ON TRUTH. PART IT. 

are inHlie condition of a man intoxicated; fit only 
for ravings dozing, and doing misichief. 

But, alas! the metaphysician is too headstrong 
to follow my advice. It would be a fine thing, in- 
deed, says he, if gentlemen were to yield to the 
dictates of nature. Is thei^e a single dictate of na- 
ture to which people of fashion now-a-days pay any 
regard ? No, no ; the world is grown wiser. As 
to this sentiment of moral liberty, I very much 
question its title to be ranked with the dictates of 
nature. It seems to be a piece of vile sophisti- 
cation, a paltr}^ prejudice, hatched by the nurse, 
and fostered by the priest. I am determined to 
take it roundly to task, and examine its pretensions 
with the eye of a philosopher ^nd freethinker. 
Very well. Sir, you may take your own way ; it 
requires no skill in Itiagic to be able to foretell the 
consequence. A traveller no sooner quits the 
right road, on supposition of its being wrong, than 
he gets ii>to one that is really so. If you set out in 
your inquiry, with suspecting the principles of 
common sense to be erroneous, you have little 
chance of falling in with any other principles that 
are not erroneous. 

The result of the metaphysical inquiry is as fol- 
lows : " Every human action must proceed from 
some motive as its cause. The motive or cause 
must be sufficient to produce the action or effect; 
otherwise it is no motive : and, if sufficient to pro- 
duce it, must necessarily produce it ; for every ef- 
fect proceeds necessarily from its cause, as heat" 
necessarily proceeds from fire. Now, the imme-e 
diate causes of action are volitions, or energies of 
the will : these arise necessarily from passions or 
appetites, which proceed necessarily from judg* 
ments or opinions; which are the necessary effect 
of external things, or of ideas, operating, accord- 
ing to the necessary laws of nature, upon our 



^JIAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* 215 

senses, Intellect, or fancy: and these ideas, or 
things, present themselves to our powers of percep-^ 
tion, as necessarily as light presents itself when we 
turn our open eyes to the sun. In a word, every 
human action is the effect of a series of causes, each 
of which does necessarily produce its own proper 
effect ; so that if the first operate, all the rest must 
follow. It is confessed, that an action may pro- 
ceed immediately from volition, and may therefore 
properly be called voluntary : but the primum mo-' 
hUe or first cause, even of a voluntary action, is 
something as independent on our will, as the pro- 
duction of the great-grandfather is independent on 
the grandson. Between physical and moral neces- 
sity there is no difference ; the phenomena of the 
moral world being no less necessary than those of 
the material. And, to conclude, if we are consci- 
ous of a feeling or sentiment of moral liberty, it 
must be a deceitful one ; for no past action of our 
lives could have been prevented, and no future ac- 
tion can possibly be contingent. Therefore man 
is not a free, but a necessary agent." 

This is just such a conclusion as I should have 
expected; for thus it always has been, and will be, 
3when the dictates of common sense are questioned 
and disputed. The existence of body, the existence 
of the soul, the reality of our idea of power, the 
difference betv/een moral and intellectual virtue, 
the certainty of the inference from an effect to the 
cause, and many other such truths, dictates of com- 
mon sense, have been called in question, and ar- 
gued upon. And what is the result? Why truly 
it has been found, that there is no body, that diere 
is no soul, that we have no idea of power, that 
moral and intellectual virtue are not different, and 
that a cause is not necessary to the production of 
that which hath a beginning. And now the liberty 
of human actions is questioned and debated, what 



216 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

could we expect, but that it would share the same 
fate! But passing this for the present^, which, 
however, seems to merit attention, we shall here 
only inquire, whether this doctrine of necessity be 
not in some important points extremely similar to 
that of the non-existence of matter. 

1. Of this doctrine we observe, in the first place, 
that, if any regard is to be had to the meaning of 
words, and if human actions may reasonably be 
taken for the signs of human sentiments, all man- 
kind have, in all ages, been of a different opinion. 
The number of professed philosophers who have 
maintained that all things happen through unavoid- 
able necessity, is but small ; nor are we to imagine 
that all the ancient Fatalists were of this number. 
The Stoics were Fatalists by profession ; but they 
still endeavoured as well as they could, to recon* 
clle fate with moral freedomf ; and the first sen- 
tence of the Enchiridon of Epictetus contains ^ 
declaration, that "opinion, pursuit, desire, and 
aversion, and, in one word, Avhatever are our ov^n 
actions, are in our own power." We see in Cice- 
ro's fragment De Fato^ and in the beginning of the 

*Some readers may possibly, on this occasion, call to 
mind a saying of an old Greek author, who, though now 
obsolete, was in his day, and for several ages after, account- 
ed a man of considerable penetration. 1 neither menti- 
on his name, nor translate his words, for fear of oftend- 
ing (pardon a fond author's vanity) my polite readers. AN0 

'CIN THN AFAnHN THS AAHQElAX OTK EAEEANTO— • 
AIA TOYTO HEMYEI ATTOI2 'O ©EOS ENEPFEIAN 
HAANHS EI2 TO HIXTETZAI ATTOT2 TH I^ETAEI. 

f "By Fate the Stoics seem to have understood a series of 
events appointed by the immutable counsels of God ; or, that 
law of his providence by w^hich he governs the world. It is 
evident by their writings, that they meant it in no sense 
which interferes with the liberty of hum.an actions." 

See Mrs. Carter's admirable Introduction to her very efeganf 
translation of the works of Epictetus, sect. ir. 



CHAP, II, AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. ^17 

Sixth book of Aulas Gellius, by what subterfuges 
and quibbUng distinctions the Stoic Chrysippus 
reconciled the seemingly opposite principles of fate 
and free-will, I am not surprised, that what he 
says on this subject is unsatislactory : for many 
Christians have puzzled themselves to no purpose 
in the same argument. But though the manner in 
which the divine prescience is exerted, be mysteri- 
ous and inexplicable, it does not follow, that the 
freedom of our will is equally so. Of this we may 
be, and we are, competent judges. It is suffici- 
ently irftimated to every man by his own experi- 
ence; and every man is satisfied with this intima« 
tion, and by his conduct declares, that he trusts to 
it as certain and authentic. Nothing can be a clear- 
er proof, that the sentiment of moral Liberty is 
one of the most powerful in human nature, than its 
having been so long able to maintain its ground, 
and often in opposition to other popular opinions 
apparently repug-nant. The notion of fate has pre- 
vailed much in the world, and yet could never sub- 
vert this sentiment even in the vulgar. — If it be 
asked, where the vulgar opinions of ancient times 
are to be found ? I answer, that in the writings of 
the most popular poets we have a chance to find 
them more genuine than in systems of philosophy. 
To advance paradoxes, and consequently to dis- 
guise facts, is often the most eifectual recommend- 
ation of a philosopher : but a poet must conform, 
himself to the general principles and manners of 
mankind; otherwise he can never become a general 
favourite. 

Now the system of Homer and Virgil concem.- 
ing fate and free-will, is perfectly explicit. ''Homer 
assigns three causes," I quote the words of Pope^ 
" of all the good and evil that happens in this world, 
which he takes a particular care to distinguish. 
First^ the will of God, superior to all- Secondly 



218 AN ESSAY ON TR0TH. PART *1. 

Destiny or fate, meaning the laws and order of na- 
ture^ affecting the constitutions of men, and dispos- 
ing them to good or v^vil, prosperity or misfortune; 
which the Supreme Being, if it be his pleasure, 
may over-rule, (as Jupiter is inclined to do in the 
case of Sarpedon^); but which he generally suf- 
fers to take effect. Thirdly, Our own free will, 
which either by prudence overcomes those natural 
influences and passions, or by folly suffers us to fall 
under themf.'^ In regard to some of the decrees 
of fate. Homer informs us, that they were cond:-^ 
tional, or such as could not take effect, except cer- 
tain actions were performed by men. Thus Achilles 
had it in his power to continue at Troy, or to re- 
turn home before the end of the war. If he chose 
to stay, his life would be short and glorious ; if to 
return, he was to enjoy peace and leisure to a good 
old age:|:. He prefers the former^ though he well 

• Iliad, xvi. 433. 

t Iliad, i. 5. xix. 90. Odyss. i. 7. 39. See Pope's notes on 
these passages. 

J MijT>7p y<«p re [xE ^Yjcri Oboc, Gins apyupoTrs^oc^ 

Iliad, ix. 41Q* 

My fates long since by Thetis were disclosed 

And each alternate, life or fame propos'd. 

Here if I stay before the Trojan town, 

Short is my date, but deathless my renown ; 

If I return, I quit immortal praise 

For years on years, and long extended days.-— Po/>e. 

On voit (says M. Dacier, in her note on this passage) par- 
tout dans Homere des marques qu'il avoit connu cette doubfe 
desiiuee des hommes, si necessaire pour accorder le libre ar^ 
bitre avec la predestinatiohv En voicy un tesmoignage bien 
formel et bien expres. II y a deux chemins pour tons les 
hcrnmes : s'ils prennjent celuy-la, il leur arrivera telle chose; 
s'ils prennent celui-cy, leur sort sera different. 

Sophocles, in like manner, represents the decree of Destiny 
concerning Ajax, as conditional. The anger of Minerva 
against that hero was to last only one day : if his friends kept 



CrtAP. li. A'ti ESSAY ON TRUTH. 219 

knew what was to follow : and I know not whether 
there be any other circumstance in the character 
of this hero, except his love to his friend and to 
his father, which so powerfully recommends him 
to our regard. This gloomy resolution invests 
him with a mournful dignity, the effects of which 
a reader of sensibility often feels at his heart, in a 
sentiment made up of admiration, pity, and horror. 

But this by the bye. -According to Virgil, the 

completion, even of the absolute decrees of fate, 
may be retarded by the agency of beings inferior to 
Jupiter"^: a certain term is fixed to every man, be- 
yoad which his life cannot last ; but before this 
period arrives, he may die, by accidental misfor- 
tune, or deserved punishment f : to virtue and vice 
necessity reaches not at all:):. 

him within doors during that space, all would be well ; if they 
suffered him to go abroad unattended, his death was inevitable, 
Ajax Mastig. 772. 794. 818. E/ /ixsv sv^oy /^svf/ (says the scholia 
^st), a-'Aj^YiO'troct' bi ^e (jlvj^ acTToKKvrxi, oiac rovro ^s to ^i.rlov rs 

Sophocles, apud H. Steph. 1588./?. 48> 

* Non dabitur regnis (esto) prohibere Latinis, 
Atque immota manet fatis Lavinia coiijux ; 
At trahere, atque moras tantis licet addere rebus. 

^neid. vii. 313. 

t Nam quia nee fato, merita nee morte peribat, 
Sed misera ante diem, subitoque accensa furore, 
Nondum iiie fiavum Proserpina vertice crinem 
Abstulerat. • jEneid, iv. 696, 

\ Stat sua cuique dies ; breve et irreparabile tempus 
Omnibus est vitae ; sed famam extendere factis. 
Hoc virtutis opus. — ' ^neid, x. 467. 

I agree with Servius (not. in ^neid. x.) that the philoso- 
phical maxims to be found in poets are not always consistent. 
The reason is plain: Poets imitate the sentiments of people of 
different characters, placed in different circumstances, and ac- 
tuated bv different passions j and nobody expects, that the lan- 
guage or thoughts, suitable to a certain character, p]g,ced in , 



220 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

In all the histories I have read of ancient or mo- 
dern, savage or civilized nations, I find the conduct 
of mankind has ever been such as I should expect 
from creatures possessed of moral freedom, and 
conscious of it. Several forms of false religion, and 
some erroneous commentaries on the true, have im- 
posed tenets inconsistent with this freedom ; but 
men have still acted, notwithstanding, as if they 
believed themselves to be free. Creeds, expressed 
in general terms, may easily be imposed on the ig- 
norant, and the selfish ; by the former they are mis- 
vmderstood, by the latter disregarded : but to over- 
power a natural instinct is a difficult task ; and a 
doctrine which is easily swallowed when proposed 
in gcnr^ral terms, may prove wholly disgustful when 
applied to a particular case. 

*^ The belief of a destiny ,"^says Mr. Macaulay, 
in his history of St. Kilda^, " is one of the strong- 
est articles of this people's creed ; and it will pos- 
sibly be found upon examination, that the common 
people in all ages, and in most countries, give into 

certain circumstances, and actuated by certain passions, sKould 
be consistent with those of a different character, whose cir- 
cumstances and passions are different. But I cannot agree 
with that annotator, in supposing the passage quoted from 
the fourth book, inconsistent with what is quoted from the 
10th ; and that the former is according to the Epicurean, and 
the latter according to the Stoical philosophy. In the latter 
passage, it is said, that a certain day or time is appointed by 
fate for the utmost limit of every man's life: in the former, 
the very same thing is implied ; only it is said further, that 
Dido died before her time; and there is nothing in the 10th 
book that insinuates the impossibility of this. The sentiments 
contained in these three quotations are conformable to Homer's 
theology, and to one another; and it deserves our notice, that 
the first comes from the mouth of Juno, the second from the 
poet or his muse, and the third from Jupiter himself; whence 
I infer, that they were agreeable to the poet's creed, or at least 
to the popular creed of his age. 



Chap. ii. an essay on truth. 221 

the ^ame notion. At St. Kilda, fate and providence 
are much the same thing. After having explained 
these terms, I asked some of the people there. 
Whether it was in their power to do good and 
evil ? The answer made by those who were unac- 
quainted with the systematical doctrines of divi- 
nity was, That the question was a very childish 
one ; as every man alive must be conscious, that 
he himself is a free agent." — If it be true, as I be- 
lieve it is, that the common people in most countries 
are inclined to acknowledge a destiny or fate ; and if 
it be also true that they are conscious of their own 
free agency notwithstanding ; this alone would con- 
vince me, though I had never consulted my own 
experience, that the sentiment of moral liberty is 
one of the strongest of human nature. For how 
many of their vices might they not excuse, if they 
could persuade themselves, or others, that thes^ 
proceed from causes as independent on their will, 
as those from which storms, earthquakes, and ec- 
lipses arise, and the temperature of soils and 
seasons, and the sound and unsound constitutions 
of the human body ! Such a persuasion, however^ 
we find not that they have at any time entertained 
or attempted; from which I think there is good 
reason to conclude, that it is not in their power. 

There is no principle in man, religion excepted, 
that has produced so great revolutions, and makes 
such a figure in the history of the world, as the love 
of political liberty : of which indeed all men do not 
form the same notion : some placing it in the power 
of doing what they please, others in the power of 
doing what is lawful ; some in being governed by 
laws of their own making, and others in being go- 
verned by equitable laws, and tried by equitable 
judges ; — but of which it is universally agreed that 
it leaves in our power many of our most important 
actions. And yet say Mr. Hume and the Fatalists, 



-22 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART IT. 

all things happen through irresistible necessity, and 
there is not in the hviman mind any idea of any 
power. Strange! that so many, especially among 
the best, the bravest, and the wisest of men, should 
have been so passionately enamoured of an incon- 
ceivable non-entity, as to abandon for its sake, 
their ease, their health, their fortunes, and their 
lives ! At this rate we are wonderfull}^ mistaken, 
when we speak of Don Quixote as a madman, and 
of Leonidas, Brutus, Wallace, Hampden, Paoli, as 
wise, and good, and great ! The case it seems is 
just the reverse ; these heroes deserve no other 
iiaiine than that of raving bedlamites ; and the illus- 
trious knight of La Mancha, to whom the object 
of his valour was at least a conceivable phantom^ 
was a person of excellent understanding and most 
perfect knowledge of the world ! 

Do not all mankind distinguish between mere 
harm and injury ? Is there one rational being un- 
acquainted with this distinction l If a man were to 
act as if he did not comprehei;id it, would not the 
world pronounce him a fool ? And yet this distinc- 
tion is perfectly incomprehensible, except we sup^ 
pose some beings to act necessarily, and others from 
free choice. A man gives me a blow, and instantly 
I feel resentment ; but a bystander informs me, 
that the man is afflicted WTth the epilepsy, which 
deprives him of the power of majiaging his limbs ; 
that the blow was not only without design, but con- 
trary t^o his intention, and that he could not possi- 
bly have prevented it. My resentment is gone, 
though I still feel pain from the blow. Can there 
be any mistake in this experience ? Can I think 
that I feel resentment, when in reality I do not feel 
it ? that I feel no resentment, when I am conscious 
of the contrary I And if I feel resentment in the 
one case, and not in the other, it is certain there 
seems to me to be some dissimilitude betv/een 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 223 

them. But it is only in respect of the intention 
of him who gave the blow that there can be any 
dissimilitude ; for all that I learn from the informa- 
tion by which my resentment was extinguished is, 
that v/hat I supposed to proceed from an evil in- 
tention, did really proceed from no evil intention, 
but from the necessary effect of a material cause, in 
which the will had no concern. What shall we say 
then ? that the distinction between injury and mere 
harm, acknowledged by all mankind, dois imply, 
that \ all mankind suppose the actions of moral be- 
ings to be free ? or shall we say, that resentment, 
though it arises uniformly in all men on certain oc- 
casions, does yet proceed from no cause ; the ac- 
tions, which do give rise to it, being in every re^r 
spect the same with those, which do not give rise 
to it ? 

Further, all men expect, with full assurance, that 
flre will burn to-morrow ; but all men do not with 
full assurance expect, that a thief will steal to-mor- 
row, or a miser refuse an alms to a beggar, or a de- 
bauchee commit an act of intemperance, even 
though opportunities offer. If I had found on blow- 
ing up my fire this morning, that the flame was cold, 
and converted water into ice, I should have been 
much more astonished than if I had detected a man 
reputed honest in the commision of an act of theft. 
The former I would call a prodigy, a contradiction 
to the known laws of nature : of the latter I should 
say, that I am sorry for it, and could never have 
expected it; but I should not suppose any prodigy 
in the case. All general rules, that regard the influ- 
ence of human characters on human actions, admit 
of exceptions ; but the general laws of matter admit 
of none. Ice was cold, and fire hot, ever since the 
creation ; hot ice, and cold fire, are according to the 
present constitution of the woi4d, impossible : but 
that a man should steal to-day, who never stole be- 

u 2 



224 . AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

fore, IS no impossibility at all. The coldness of the 
flame I should doubtless think owing to some cause, 
and the dishonesty of the man to some strange re- 
volution in his sentiments and principles ; but I 
never could bring myself to think the man as pas- 
sive, in regard to this revolution, as the fire must 
be supposed to be in regard to the cause by which 
its nature is changed. The man has done what he 
ought not to have done, what he might have pre- 
vented, and what he deserves punishment for not 
preventing ; — this is the language of all rational 
beings ; — but the fire is wholly. unconscious and in- 
ert. Who will say that there is the same necessity 
in both cases ! 

Fatalists are fond of inferring moral necessity 
from physical, in the way of analogy. But some of 
their arguments on this topic are most ridiculously 
absurd. " There is," says Voltaire's Ignorant 
Philosopher '' nothing without a cause. An effect 
without a cause are words without meaning. Every 
time I have a will, this can only be in consequence 
of my judgment good or bad ; this judgment is 
necessary; therefore so is my will." — All this hath 
been said by others : but what follows is, I believe, 
peculiar to this Ignorant Philosopher, " In effect," 
continues he, " it would be very singular, that all 
nature, all the planets, should obey eternal laws, 
and that there should be a little animal, five feet 
high, who, in contempt of these laws, could act as 
he pleased, solely according to his caprice." Sin- 
gular ! aye singular indeed. So very singular, that 
yours. Sir, if I mistake not, is the first human brain 
that ever conceived such a notion. If man be free, 
nobody ever dreamed that he made himself so in 
contempt of the laws of nature ; it is in consequence 
of a law- of nature that he is a free agent. But 
passing this, let us attend to the reasoning. The 
planets are not free agents \ therefore it would 



CHAP. II. AN ES3AY 01*^ TRUTH. 225 

be very singular, that man should .be one. Not a 
whit more singular, than that this same animal of 
five feet should perceive, and think, and read, and 
write, and speak ; which no astronomer of my ac- 
quaintance has ever supposed to belong to the pla- 
nets, notwithstanding their brilliant appearance, 
and stupendous magnitude^. We do too much 
honour to such reasoning, when we reply to it in 
the bold but sublinie words of a great genius : 

Know'st thou th' importance of a soul immortal ? 
Behold this midnight glory, worlds on worlds ? 
Amazing pomp ! redouble this amaze ; 
Ten thousand add ; and twice ten thousand more ; 
Then weigh the whole ; one soul out-weighs them all. 
And calls th' astonishing magnificence 
Of unintelligent creation poor. Complaint, Night 7. 

Mr. Hume, in an essay on this subject, main- 
tains, that the appearances in the moral and mate- 
rial world are equally uniform, and equally neces- 
sary ; nay, and acknowledged to be so, both by 
philosophers and by the vulgar. In proof of this, 
he prudently confines himself to general topics, on 

* Mr, Voltaire has often laboured, with more zeal than suc- 
cess, to prove, amongst other strange doctrines, that Shakes- 
peare and Milton were no great poets. What if I should 
here help him to an argument as decisive on that point as any 
he has yet invented, and framed exactly according to the 
rules of his own logic, as exemplified in the passage now be- 
fore us ? " The English say, that Shakespeare and Milton 
were great poets. Now it is well known, that neither Plin- 
limmon in Wales, nor Mealfourvouny^ in Scotland, neither 
Lebanon in Syria, nor Atlas in Mauritania, ever wrote one 
good verse in their days ; and yet each of these mountains 
exceeds in corporeal magnitude ten thousand Miltons and as 
many Shakespeares. But it would be very singular, that 
masses of so great distinction should never have been able to 
put pen to paper with any success, and yet that no fewer than 
two pieces of English flesh and blood, scarce six feet long, 
should in contempt of nature and all her laws, have penned 
poems that are entitled to general admiration T* 



226 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH^ PART 11* 

which he declaims with some plausibility. Had he 
descended to particular instances, as we have done, 
the fallacy of his reasoning would have appeared at 
once. Human nature has been nearly the same in 
all ages. True. For all men possess nearly the same 
faculties, which are employed about nearly the 
same objects, and destined to operate within the 
same narrow sphere. And if a man have power to 
choose one of two things, to act or not to act, he 
has all the liberty we contend for. How is it pos- 
sible, then, that human nature, taken in the gross, 
should not be found nearly the same in all ages ! 
But if we come to particulars, we shall not per- 
haps find two human minds exactly alike. In two 
of the most congenial characters on earth the same 
causes will not produce the same effects ; nay, the 
&ame causes will not always produce the same ef- 
fects even in the same character. 

Some Fatalists deny, that our internal feelings 
are in favour of moral liberty. " It is true," says 
^ worthy and ingenious, though fanciful, author, 
^' that a man by internal feeling may prove his 
own free will, if by free will be meant the power 
of doing what a man wills or desires ; or of resist- 
ing the motives of sensuality, ambition, &c. that 
is free will in the popular and practical sense. 
Every person may easily recollect instances, where 
he has done -these several things. But these are 
intirely foreign to the present question. To prove 
that a man has free-will in the sense opposite to 
mechanism, he ought to feel, that he can do differ- 
ent things while the motives remain precisely the 
same. And here I apprehend the internal feelings 
are intirely against free-will, where the motives 
are of a sufficient magnitude to be evident : where 
they are not, nothing can be proved*." — -Questions 

* Hartley's Observations on man, vol. 1. p. 50r. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 227 

of this kind would be more easily solved, if au- 
thor's would explain their doctrine by examples. 
When this is not done, we cannot always be sure 
that we understand their meaning, especially in 
abstract subjects, where language, after all our 
care, is often equivocal and inadequate. If I right- 
ly understand this author, and am allowed to exa- 
mine his principles by my own experience, I must 
conclude, that he very much mistakes the fact. 
Let us take an example. A man is tempted to the 
commission of a crime: his motive to commit, is 
the love of money, or the gratification of appetite : 
his motive to abstain, is a regard to duty, or to re- 
putation. Suppose him to weigh these motives in 
his mind, for an hour, a day, or a week ; and sup* 
pose, that during this space, no additional conside- 
ration occurs to him on either side: which, I 
think, may be supposed, because I know it is poS«v 
,.«ible, and I believe often happens. While his mind 
is in this state, the motives remain precisely the 
same : and yet it is to me inconceivable, that he 
should at any time, during this space, feel himself 
under a necessity of committing, or under a neces- 
sity of not committing the crime* He is indeed 
under a necessity either to do, or not to do : but 
every man, in such a case, feels that he has it in his 
power to choose the one or the other. At leastj 
in all my experience I have never been conscious, 
nor had anv reason to believe, that other men were 
conscious, of any such necessity as the author here 
speaks of. 

Again: Suppose two men in the circumstances 
above mentioned, to yield to the temptation, and 
to be differently affected by a review of their con- 
duct ; the one repining at fortune, or fate, or Pro- 
vidence, for having placed him in too tempting a 
situation, and solicited him by motives too power- 
f\x} to be resisted ; the other blaming and upbraid 



228 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART TI, 

ing himself for yielding to the bad motive, and re- 
sisting the good : — I would ask, which of these two 
kinds of remorse or regret is the most rational ? 
The first according to the doctrine of the Fatalists ; 
the last, according to the universal opinion of man- 
kind. No divine, no moralist, no man of sense, 
ever supposes true penitence to begin, till the cri- 
minal become conscious, that he has done, or ne- 
glected something which he ought not to have done 
or neglected : a sentiment which would be not only 
absurd, but impossible, if all criminals and guilty 
persons believed, from internal feeling, that what 
is done could not have been prevented. When- 
ever you can satisfy a man of this, he may continue 
to bewail himself or repine at fortune; but his re- 
pentance is at an end. It is always a part, and too 
often the whole, of the language of remorse: " I 
wish the deed had never been done ; wretch that I 
was, not to resist the temptation !" Does this im- 
ply, that the penitent supposes himself to have 
been under a necessity of committing the action, 
and that his conduct could not possibly have been 
different from what it is ? To me it seems to im- 
ply just the contrary. And am not I a competent 
judge of this matter? Have not I been in these 
circumstances ? Has not this been often the lan- 
guage of my soul ? And will any man pretend to 
say, that I do not know my own thoughts, or that 
he knows them better than I ? — All men, indeed, 
have but too frequent experience of at least this 
part of repentance; then why multiply words, 
when by facts it is so easy to determine the contro- 
versy ? 

Other Fatalists acknowledge, that the free agen- 
cy of man is universally felt and believed : That 
though man in truth is a necessary agent, having 
all his actions determined by fixed and immutable 
laws ; yet, this being concealed from him, he acts 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 229 

with the conviction of being a free agent"^. — Con- 
cealed from himf Who conceals it? Does the 
author of nature conceal it, — and do these writers 
discover it? What deference is not due to the 
judgment of a metaphysician, whose sagacity is so 
irresistibly (I had almost said omnipotently) pene- 
trating ! But, gentlemen, as ye are powerful, ye 
should have been merciful. It was not kind to rob 
poor mortals of this crumb of comfort which had 
been provided for them in their ignorance ; nor 
generous to publish so openly the secrets of Hea- 
ven, and thus baffie the designs of Providence by 
a few strokes of your pen ! — In truth, metaphysic 
is a perplexing affair to the passions, as well as to 
the judgment. Sometimes it is so absurd, that 
not to be merry is impossible ; and sometimes so 
impious, that not to be angry were unpardonable: 
but often it partakes so much of both qualities, 
that one knows not with what temper of mind to 
consider it : 

<* To laugh, were want of goodness, and of grace ; 
" And to be grave, exceeds all power of face." 

But why insist so long on the universal acknow- 
ledgment of man's free agency? To me it is as evi- 
dent, that all men believe themselves free, as that 
all men think. I cainnot see the heart; I judge of 
the sentiments of others from their outward beha- 
viour; from the highest to the lowest, as far as 
history and experience can carry me, I find the 
conduct of human beings similar in this respect to 

* In the former edition of this Essay, a particular book was 
here specified and quoted. But I have lately heard, that ir^ a 
second edition of that book, which, however, I have not yet 
seen, the author has made some alterations, by which he gets 
clear of the absurdity exposed-in this passage. 



230 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART If. 

my own : and of my own free agency I have never 
yet been able to entertain the least doubt. " Here 
then we have an mstance of a doctrine advanced by 
some philosophers, in direct contradiction to the 
general belief of all men in all ages." This is a 
repetition of the first remark formerly made on the 
non-existence of matter. 

2. The second was to this purpose : " The i^ea- 
soning by which this doctrine is supported, though 
long accounted unanswerable, did never produce a 
serious and steady conviction ; common sense still 
declared it to be false ; we were sorry to find the 
powers of human reason so limited as not to afford 
a logical confutation of it ; we were convinced it 
merited confutation, and flattered ourselves that 
one time or other it would be confuted." 

I shall here take it for granted, that the scheme 
of necessity has not as yet been fully confuted ; and 
on this supposition (which the Fatalists can hardly 
fail to acknowledge a fair one) I would ask, whe- 
ther the remark just now quoted be applicable to 
the reasonings urged in behalf of that scheme? 
My experience tells me, it is. After giving the 
advocates for necessity a fair hearing, my belief is 
exactly the same as before. I am puzzled perhaps, 
but not convinced, no not in the least degree. In 
reading some late essays on this subject, I find ma- 
ny things allowed to pass without scruple, which 
I cannot admit : and when I have got to the end, 
and ask myself, whether I am a free or a necessary 
agent, nature recurs upon me so irresistibly, that 
the investigation I have just finished, seems (as 
Shakespeare says) "like the fierce vexation of 
a dream," which, while it lasted, had some resem* 
bl^nce of reality, but now, when it is gone, appears 
to have been altogether a delusion. This is preju- 
dice, you say ; be it so. Before the confutation of 
Berkeley's system, would it have been called pre- 



CHAP^ II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 23l 

judice not to be convinced by his arguments? I 
know not but it might ; but I am sure, that of such 
prejudice no honest man, nor lover of truth, needs 
be ashamed. I confess, that when I enter upon 
the controversy in question, I am not wholly indif- 
ferent ; I am a little biassed in favour of common 
sense, and I cannot help it : yet if the reasoning 
were conclusive, I am confident it would breed in 
my mind some suspicion, that my sentiment of 
moral liberty is ambiguous. As I experience no» 
thing of this kind, my conviction remaining the 
same as before, what must I infer? Surely I must 
infer, and I sin against my own understanding if I 
do not infer, that though the reasoning be subtle, 
the doctrine is absurd. 

But what if a man be really convinced by that 
reasoning, that he is a necessary agent ? — Then I 
expect he will think and act according to his con- 
viction. If he continue to act and think as he did 
before, and as I and the rest of the world do now, 
he must pardon me if I should suspect his convic^ 
tion to be insincere. For let it be observed, that 
the Fatalists are not satisfied with calling their 
doctrine probable; they affirm, that it is certain, 
and rests on evidence not inferior to demonstration. 
If, therefore, it convince at all, it must convince 
thoroughly. Between rejecting it as utterly false, 
and receiving it as undeniably true, there is no me- 
dium to a considerate person. And let it be ob- 
served further, that the changes which the real 
belief of fatality must produce in the conduct and 
sentiments of i^en, are not slight and impercep- 
tible; but, as will appear afterwards, important 
and striking. If you say, that the instincts of your 
nature, the customs of the world, and the force 
of human laws, oblige you to act like free agents, 
you acknowledge fatality to be contrary to naiure 



232 AN ESSxW ON TRUTH. PART U. 

and common sense ; which is the point I want to 
prove. 

Clay is not more obsequious to the potter, than 
words to the skillful disputant. They may be made 
to assume almost any form, to enforce almost any 
doctrine. So true it is, that much may be said on 
either side of most questions, that we have known 
dealers in controversy, who were always of the 
same mind with the author whom they read last. 
Vv^e have seen theories of morality deduced from 
pride, from sympathy, from self-love, from benev- 
olence ; and all so plausible, as would surprise one 
who is unacquainted with the ambiguities of lan- 
guage. Of these the advocates for simple truth are 
less careful to avail themselves, than their paradox- 
ical antagonists. The arguments of the former, 
being more obvious, stand less in need of illustra- 
tion ; those of the latter require all the embellish- 
ments of eloquence and refinement to recommend 
them. Robbers seldom go abroad without arms ; 
they examine every corner and countenance with a 
penetrating eye, which habitual distrust and cir- 
cumspection have rendered intensely sagacious: 
the honest man walks carelessly about his business, 
intending no Jiarm, and suspecting none. It can- 
not be denied, that philosophers do often, in . the 
use of words, impose on themselves as well as 
on others; an ambiguous word slipping in by 
accident will often perplex a whole subject, to 
the equal surprise of both parties; and perhaps, 
in a long course of years, the cause of this per- 
plexity shall not be discovered. This was never 
more remarkably the case, than in the contro- 
versy about the existence of matter; and this 
no doubt is one great hinderance to the utter 
confutation of the doctrine of necessity. Fa- 
talists indeed, make a stir, and seem much in ear- 
nest about settling the signification of the words : 



CHAP. ir. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 23 



Q 



but "words beget words," as Bacon well observ- 
eth ; and it cannot be expected, that they who are 
interested in supporting a system will be scrupu- 
lously impartial in their definitions. 

With a few of these, a theorist commonly begins 
his system. This has the appearance of fairness 
and perspicuity. We hold it for a maxim, that a 
man may use words in any sense he pleases, pro- 
vided he explain the sense in which he uses them ; 
and we think it captious, to find fault with words. 
We therefore are easily prevailed on to admit his 
definitions, which are generally plausible, and not 
apparently repugnant to the analogy of language. 
But the understanding of the author when he 
writes, and that of the student, when he reads 
them, are in very different circumstances. The 
former knows his system already, and adapts his 
definitions to it : the latter is ignorant of the sys- 
tem, and therefore can have no notion of the ten- 
dency of the definitions. Besides, every system 
is in some degree obscure to one who is but begin- 
ning to study it ; and this obscurity serves to dis- 
guise whatever in the preliminary illustrations is 
forced or inexplicit. Thus the mind of the most 
candid and most attentive reader is prepared for 
the reception of error, long before he has any sus- 
picion of the author's real design. And then, the 
more he is accustomed to use words in a certain 
signification, the more he is disposed to think it 
natural ; so that the further he advances in the sys- 
tem, he is still more and more reconciled to it. 
Need we wonder then at the variety of moral sys- 
tems? need we wonder to see a man's judgment 
so easily, and often so egregiously misled, by ab- 
stract reasoning ? need we wonder at the success 
of any theorist, who has a tolerable command of 
language, and a moderate share of cunning, pro- 



%34 AN JiSSAY ON TRUTir. >ART II. 

vided his system be well-timed, and adapted to the 
manners and principles of his age? Neither need 
we wonder to see the grossest and most detestable 
absurdities recommended by singular plausibility 
of argument, and such as may for a time impose 
even on the intelligent and sagacious ; till at last, 
when the author's design becomes manifest, com- 
mon sense begins to operate, and men have re- 
course to their instinctive and intuitive sentiments, 
as the most effectual security against the assaults of 
the logician. 

Further, previous to all influence from habit and 
education, the intellectual abilities of different men 
are very different in respect of reasoning, as well 
as of common sense. Some men, sagacious enough 
in perceiving truth, are but ill qualified to reason 
about it: while others, not superior in common 
sense, or intuitive sagacity, are much more dex- 
terous in devising and confuting arguments. If you 
propose a sophism to the latter, you are at once 
contradicted and confuted: the former, though 
they cannot confute you, are perhaps equally sensi- 
ble of your false doctrine, and unfair reasoning; 
they know, that what you say is not true, though 
they cannot tell in what respect it is false. Per- 
haps all that is wanting to enable them to confute, 
as well as contradict^ is only a little practice in 
speaking and wrangling: but surely this affects not 
the truth or falsehood of propositions. What is 
false is as ireally so to the person who perceives its 
falsity, without being able to prove it, as to him 
%yho both perceives and proves ; and it is equally 
false, before I learn logic, and after. — -Is it not 
therefore highly unreasonable to expect conviction 
from every antagonist who cannot confute you, and 
to ascribe to prejudice what is owing to the irre* 
sistible impulse of unerring nature ? 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 235 

I have conversed with many people of sense on 
the subject of this controversy concerning Uberty 
and necessity. To the greater part, the arguments 
of Clarke and others, in vindication of liberty, 
seemed quite satisfying; others owned themselves 
puzzled with the subtleties of those who took the 
opposite side of the question; some reposed with 
full assurance on that consciousness of liberty which 
every man feels in his own breast : in a word, as 
far as my experience goes, I have found all the im- 
partial, the most sagacious, and most virtuous, 
part of mankind, enemies to fatality in their hearts; 
willing to consider the arguments for it as rather 
specious than solid ; and disposed to receive^ with 
joy and thankfulness, a thorough vindication of 
human liberty, and a logical confutation of the op- 
posite doctrine. - 

3. It has been said, that philosophers are answer- 
able, not for the consequences, but only for the 
truth of their tenets ; and that, if a doctrine be 
true, its being attended with disagreeable conse- 
quences will not render it false. We readily ac- 
quiesce in this remark ; but we imagine it cannot 
be meant of anv truth but what is certain and incon- 
trovertible. No genuine truth did ever of itself 
produce effects inconsistent with real utility^. But 
many principles pass for truth, which are far from 
deserving that honourable appellation. Some give 
it to all doctrines which have been defended with 
subtlety, and which, whether seriously believed or 
not, have never been logically confuted. But to 
affirm, that all such doctrines are certainly true, 
would argue the most contemptible ignorance of 
human language, and human ryature. It is there- 

Marc. Antoam, 
X 2 



236 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. FART II. 

fore absurd to say, that the bad consequences of 
admitting such doctrines ought not to be urged as 
arguments against them. — Now, there are many 
persons in the world, of most respectable under- 
standing, who would be extremely averse to ac- 
knowledge, that the doctrine of necessity has ever 
been demonstrated beyond all possibility of doubt. 
I may therefore be permitted to consider it as a 
controvertible tenet, and to expose the absurdities 
and dangerous consequences with which the belief 
of it may, and must be attended. 

Mr. Hume endeavours to raise a prejudice 
against this method of refutation. He probably 
foresaw, that the tendency of his principles would 
be urged as an argument against them ; and being 
somewhat apprehensive of the consequences, as 
well he might, he insinuates, that all such reason- 
ing is no better than personal invective. ^' There 
is no method of reasoning," says he, '^ more com- 
mon, and yet ftone more blameable, than in philo- 
sophical debates to endeavour the refutation of any 
hypothesis, by a pretence of its dangerous conse- 
quences to religion and morality. When any opi- 
nion leads into absurdities, it is certainly false ; 
but it is not certain that an opinion is false, because 
it is of dangerous consequence. Such topics there- 
fore ought entirely to be forborne, as serving no- 
thing to the discovery of truth, but only to make 
the person of an antagonist odious=^." If your 
philosophy be such, that its consequences cannot ^ 
be unfolded without rendering your person odious, 
pray, Mr. Hume, who is to blame? you, who con- 
trive and publish it; or I, who criticise it? There 
is a kind of philosophy so salutary in its effects, as 
to endear the person of the author to every good 
man: why is not yours of this kind? If it is not, 

* Essay on Liberty and Necessity, part 2. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. £37 

as you yourself seem to apprehend, do you thinks 
that I ought to applaud your principles, or suffer 
them to pass unexamined, even though I am cer- 
tain of tlieir pernicious tendency ? or that, out of 
respect to your person, I ought not to put others 
on their guard against them ^ Surely you cannot 
be so blinded by self- admiration, as to think it the 
duty of any man to sacrifice the interest of man- 
kind to your interest, or rather to your reputation 
as a metaphysical writer. If you do think so, I 
must take the liberty to differ from your judgment 
in this, as in many other matters. 

Nor can I agree to what our author says of this 
method of reasoning, that it tends nothing to the 
discovery of truth. Does not every thing tend to 
the discovery of truth, that disposes men to think 
for themselves, and to consider opinions with at- 
tention, before they adopt them? And have not 
many well meaning persons rashly adopted a plau- 
sible opinion on the supposition of its being harm- 
less, who, if they had been aware of its bad tenden- 
cy, would have proceeded with more caution, and 
made a better use of their understanding? 

This is truly a notable expedient for determin- 
ing controversy in favour of licentious theories. 
An author publishes a book, in which are many 
doctrines fatal to human happiness, and subversive 
of human society. If, from a regard to truth, and 
to mankind, we endeavour to expose them in their 
proper colours, and, by displaying their dangerous 
and absurd consequences, to deter men from rash- 
ly adopting them without examination ; our adver- 
sary immediately exclaims, '' This is not fair rea- 
soning; this is personal invective." Were the 
sentiments of the public to be regulated by this ex- 
clamation, licentious writers might do what mis- 
chief they pleased, and no man durst appear in op- 
position, without being hooted at for his want of 



2M N AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

breeding. — It is happy for us all, that the law is not 
to be browbeaten by insinuations of this kind; 
otherwise we should hear some folks exclaim 
against it every day, as one of the most ungenteel 
things in the world. And truly they would have 
reason: for it cannot be denied, that an indictment 
at the Old Bailey has much the air of a personal 
invective ; and banishment, or burning in the hand, 
amounts nearly to a personal assault ^ nay, both 
have often this express end, to make the person of 
the criminal odious : and yet in his judgment per- 
haps, there was no great harm in picking a pocket 
of a handkerchief, value thirteen pence, provided 
it was done with a good grace. Let not the ma- 
jesty of science be offended by this allusion; I 
mean not to argue from it, for it is not quite simi- 
lar to the case in hand. That those men act the 
part of good citizens, who endeavour to overturn 
the plainest principles of human knowledge, and to 
subvert the foundations of all religion, I am far 
from thinking; but I should be extremely sorry to 
see any other weapons employed against them 
than those of reason and ridicule, chastised by de- 
cency and truth. Other weapons this cause re- 
quires not ; nay, in this cause^ all other weapons 
would do more harm than good. And let it still 
be remembered, that the object of our strictures is 
not men, but books ; and that these incur our cen- 
sure, not because they bear certain names, but be- 
cause they contain certain principles. 

These remarks relate rather to the doctrines of 
scepticism in general, than to this of necessity in 
particular; which I am not ignorant that many 
men, respectable both for their talents and princi- 
ples, have asserted. I presume, however, they 
would have been more cautious if thev had attend- 
ed to the consequences that may be drawn from it. 
— ^To which I now return. 



CHAP. 11^ AN ESSAY ON TRI/TH. 239 

Some of the Fatalists are willing to reconcile 
their system with our natural notions of moral 
good and evil ; but all they have been able to do 
is, to remove the difficulty a step or two further 
off. But the most considerable of that party are 
not solicitous to render these points consistent. If 
they can only establish necessity, they leave natu- 
ral religion to shift for itself. Mr. Hume in par- 
ticular affirms, that on his principles it is impossible 
for natural reason to vindicate the character of the 
Deity^. Had this author been possessed of one 
grain of that modesty which he recommends in 
the conclusion of his essay ; had he thought it 
worth his while to sacrifice a little pittance of igno- 
minious applause to the happiness of human kind ; 
he would have shuddered at the thought of incul- 
cating a doctrine which he knew to be irreconcile- 
able with this great first principle of religion ; and 
of which, therefore, he must have known, that it 
tended to overturn the only durable foundation of 
human society and human happiness. 

The advocates for liberty, on the other hand, have 
universally espoused the cause of virtue, and zeal- 
ously asserted the infinite wisdom and purity of the 
divine nature. Now, I confess, that this very con- 
sideration is, according to my notion of things, a 
strong argument in favour of the last mentioned 
doctrine. Here are two opinions j the one incon- 
sistent with the first principles of natural religion, 
as some of those who maintain it acknowledge, as 
well as with the experience, the belief, and the 
practice, of the generality of rational beings ; the 
other perfectly consistent with religion, conscience, 
and common sense. If the reader believe, with me, 
that the Deity is infinitely good and wise, he can- 
aot balance a moment between them ; nor hesitate 

* Essay on Liberty and Necessityi sub, fin. 



140 An ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

to affirm, that the universal belief of the former 
would produce much mischief and misery to man- 
kind. If he be prepossessed in favour of fatality, 
he ought, however, before he acquiesce in it as true, 
to be well assured, that the evidences of natural re- 
ligion, particularly of the divine existence and at- 
tributes, are weaker than the proofs that have been 
urged in behalf of necessity. But will any one say, 
that this doctrine admits of a proof, as unexcep- 
tionable as that by which we evince the being and 
attributes of God ? I appeal to his own heart, I ap- 
peal to the experience and consciousness of man- 
kind ; are you as thoroughly convinced, that 

no past action of your life could possibly have been 
prevented, and that no future action can possibly 
be contingent, as that God is infinitely wise, pow- 
erful, and good? Examine the evidence of both 

propositions, examine with candour the instinctive 
suggestions of your own mind ; — and then tell me, 
whether you find atheism or man's moral liberty 
hardest to be believed. 

Perhaps I shall be told, that the belief of moral 
liberty is attended with equal difficulties ; for that, 
to reconcile the contingency of human actions with 
the prescience of God, is as impossible, as to recon- 
cile necessity with his goodness and wisdom. Others 
have answered this objection at length ; I make 
therefore only two brief remarks upon it. 1. As it 
implies not any reflection on the divine power, to 
gay that it cannot perform impossibilities; so neither, 
I presume, does it imply any reflection on his know- 
ledge, to say, that he cannot foresee as certain, what 
is really not certain, but only contingent. Yet he 
sees all possible effects of all possible causes ; and 
our freedom to choose good or evil can no more be 
conceived to interfere widi the final purposes of his 
providence, than our power of moving our limbs is 
inconsistent with pur inability to remove mountaiiis. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 241 

2. No man will take it upon him to say, that he 
distinctly understands the manner in which the De- 
ity acts, perceives, and knows : but the incompre- 
hensibleness of his nature will never induce men 
to doubt his existence and attributes, unless there 
be men who fancy themselves infallible, and of in- 
finite capacity. Shall I then conclude, because I 
cannot fully comprehend the manner in which the 
divine prescience operates, that therefore the Deity 
is not infinitely perfect ? or that, therefore, I cannot 
be certain of the truth of a sentiment which is war- 
ranted by my constant experience, and by that of 
all mankind ? Shall I say, that because my know- 
ledge is not infinite, therefore I have no knowledge ? 
Because I know not when I shall die, does it follow, 
that I cannot be certain of my being now alive ? 
Because God has not told me every thing, shall I 
refuse to believe what he has told me ? To draw 
such a conclusion from such premises is in my 
judgment, as contrary to reason, as to say, that, 
because I am ignorant of the cause of magnetical 
attraction, therefore I ought not to believe that 
the needle points to the north. — That I am a free 
agent, I know and believe ; that God foresees what- 
ever can be foreseen, as he can do whatever can be 
done, I also know and believe : nor have the Fatal- 
ists ever proved, nor can they ever prove, that the 
one belief is inconsistent with the other. 

The asserters of human liberty Tiave always 
maintained, that to believe all actions and inten- 
tions necessary, is the same thing as to believe that 
man is not an accountable being, or, in other 
words, no moral agent. And indeed this notion is 
natural to every person who has the courage to 
trust his own experience, without seeking to puzzle 
plain matter of fact with verbal distinctions and 
metaphysical refinement. But, it is said, the sense 
of moral beauty and turpitude still remains with us, 



242 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, ?ART II# 

even after we are convinced that all actions and in- 
tentions are necessary ; that this sense maketh us 
moral agents ; and therefore, that our moral agency 
is perfectly consistent with our necessary agency. 
But this is nothing to the purpose ; it is putting us 
off with mere words. For what is moral agency, 
and what is implied in it? This at least must be 
implied in it, that we ought to do some things, and 
not to do others. But if every intention and action 
of my life is fixed by eternal laws, which I can nei- 
ther elude nor alter, it is as absurd to say to me, 
You ought to be honest to-morrow, as to say, You 
ought to stop the motion of the planets to-morrow. 
Unless some events depend upon my determination, 
oicghty and ought not^ have no meaning when appli- 
ed to me. Moral agency further implies, that we 
are accountable for our conduct ; and that if we do 
what we ought not to do, we deserve blame and 
punishment. My conscience tells me, that I am ac- 
countable for those actions only that are in my own 
power ; and neither blames nor approves, in myself 
or in others, that conduct which is the effect, not of 
choice, but of necessity. Convince me, that all my 
actions are equally necessary, and you silence my 
conscience for ever, or at least prove it to be a fal- 
lacious and impertinent monitor : you will then con- 
vince me, that all circumspection is unnecessary, 
and all remorse absurd. And is it a matter of 
little moment, whether I believe my moral feeling^ 
authentic and true, or equivocal and fallacious ? 
Can any principle be of more fatal consequence to 
me, or to society, than to believe, that the dictates 
of conscience are false, unreasonable, or insignifi- 
cant t Yet this is one certain effect of my becoming 
a Fatalist, or even sceptical in regard to moral 
liberty. 

I observe, that when a man's understanding be- 
gins to be so far perverted by debauchery, as to 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. "243 

make him imagine his crimes unavoidable, from 
that moment he begins to think them innocent, and 
deems it a sufficient apology, that in respect of them 
he is no longer a free but a necessary agent. The 
drunkard pleads his constitution, the blasphemer 
urges the invincible force of habit, and the sen- 
sualist would have us believe, that his appetites 
are too strong to be resisted. Suppose all men 
so far perverted as to argue in the same manner 
with regard to crimes of every kind ; — then it is 
certain, that all men would be equally disposed 
to think all crimes innocent. And what would 
be the consequence ? Licentiousness, misery, and 
desolation, irremediable and universal. If God 
intended that men should be happy, and that the 
human race should continue for many generations, 
he certainly intended also that men should be- 
lieve themselves free, moral, and accountable crea- 
tures. 

Supposing it possible for a man to act upon the 
belief of his being a necessary agent, let us see how 
he would behave in some of the common affairs of 
life. He does me an injury. I go to him and re- 
monstrate. You will excuse me, says he ; I was put 
upon it by one on whom I am dependent, and who 
threatened me with beggary and perdition if I re-« 
fused to comply. I acknowledge this to be a consi- 
derable alleviation of the poor man's guilt. Next 
day he repeats the injury ; and, on my renewing my 
remonstrances. Truly, says he, I was offered six- 
pence to do it; or T did it to please my humour: 
but I know you will pardon me, when I tell you, 
that as all motives are necessary causes of the ac- 
tions that proceed from them, it follows, that all 
motives productive of the same action are irresisti- 
ble, and therefore, in respect of the agent, equally 
strong: I am therefore as innocent now as I was 
formerly ; for the event has proved, that the motive 

y 



244 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

arising from the offer of sixpence, or from the im- 
pulse of whim, was as effectual in producing the 
action which you call an injury, as the motive 
arising from the fear of ruin. Notwithstanding 
this fine speech, I should be afraid, that these prin- 
ciples, if persisted in, and acted upon, would soon 
bring the poor Fatalist to Tyburn or Bedlam. 

Will you promise to assist me to-morrow with 
your labour, advice, or interest ? No, says the prac- 
tical Fatalist; I can promise nothing; lor my con- 
duct to-morrow will certainly be determined by the 
motive that then happens to predominate. Let your 
promise, say I, be your motive. How can you be 
so ignorant, he replies, as to imagine that our mo- 
tives to action are in our own power ! O sad, O sad! 
you must study metaphysic, indeed you must. 
Why, Sir, our motives to action are obtruded upon 
us by irresistible necessity. Perhaps they arise im- 
mediately from some passion, judgment, fancy, or, 
if you please, volition ; but this volition, fancy, 
jvidgment, or passion — what is it ? an effect without 
a cause ? No, no ; it is necessarily excited by some 
idea, object, or notion, which presents itself inde- 
pendently on me, and in consequence of some ex- 
trinsic cause, the operation of which I can neither 
foresee nor prevent. — Where is the man who would 
choose this Fatalist for his friend, companion, or 
fellow-citizen ? who will say, that society could at 
all subsist, if the generality of mankind were to 
think, and speak, and act upon such principles ? 

But, says the Fatalist, is it not easy to imagine 
cases in which the men who believe themselves free, 
would act the part of fools or knaves ? Nothing in- 
deed is more easv. But let it be observed, that the 
folly or knavery of such men, arises, not from their 
persuasion of their own free agency, for many mil- 
lions of this persuasion have passed through life 
with a fair character, but from other causes. I can- 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. ^45 

not conceive any greater discouragement from kna- 
very and folly, than the consideration that man is 
an accountable being ; and I know not how we can 
suppose him accountable, unless we suppose him 
free. The obvious tendency of our principles is 
therefore to deter men from knavery and folly; 
whereas it is impossible for a Fatalist to act upon 
his own principles for one day, without rendering 
himself ridiculous or detestable. 

The reader, if disposed to pursue these hints, and 
attend, in imagination, to the behaviour of the prac- 
tical Fatalist in the more interesting scenes of pub- 
lic and private life, may entertain himself with a 
series of adventures, more ludicrous, or at least 
snore irrational, than any of those for which the 
knight of La Mancha is celebrated. I presume I 
have said enough to satisfy every Impartial mind, 
" That the real and general belief of necessity 
would be attended with fatal consequences to sci- 
ence, and to human nature ;" — which is a repeti- 
tion of the third remark we formerly made on the 
doctrine of the non-existence of body^. 

And now we have proved, that if there was any 
reason for rejecting Berkeley's doctrine as absurd, 
and contrary to common sense, before his arguments 
were shewn to arise from the abuse of words, there 
is at present the same reason for rejecting the doc- 
trine of necessity, even on the supposition that it 
hath not as yet been logically confuted. Both doc- 
trines are repugnant to the general belief of man- 
kind : both notwithstanding all the efforts of the 
subtlest sophistry, are still incredible : both are so 
contrary to nature, and to the condition of human 
beings, that they cannot be carried into practice ; 
and so contrary to true philosophy, that they 
cannot be admitted into science, without bringing 

* See the end of the preceding sectioii 



246 AN ESSAY ON TRUTU. PART 11* 

scepticism along with them, and rendering questi- 
onable the plainest principles of moral truth, and 
the very distinction between truth and falsehood. 
In a word, we have proved, that common sense, 
as it teacheth us to believe and be assured of the 
existence of matter, doth also teach us to believe 
and be assured, that man is a free agent. 

It would lead us too far from our present pur- 
pose to enter upon a logical examination of the af- 
l^umcnt for necessity. Our design is only to explain 
by what marks one may distinguish the principles 
of common sense, that is, intuitive, or self-evident 
notions, from those deceitful and inveterate opi- 
nions that have sometimes assumed the same ap- 
})earance. If I have satisfied the reader, that the 
iree agency of men is a self-evident fact, I have 
also satisfied him, that all reasoning on the side of 
necessity, though accounted unanswerable, is in its 
very nature, and previously to all confutation, ab- 
surd and irrational, and ccmtrary to the practice 
and principles of all true philosophers. 

Let not the friends of liberty be discouraged by 
the perplexing arguments of the Fatalist"*. Argu- 
ments in opposition to solf-evident truth, must, if 
plausible, be perplexing. Think what method of 
argumentation a man must pursue, who sets him- 

"* There is no subject on which doubts and difficulties may 
not be started by ingenious and disj)ulatious men : and there- 
iot^t from the number of their objections, and the length of 
t,Ue controversy to which they give occasion, we cannot, in. 
any case, conclude, thai the original evidence is weak, or even 
that it is not obvious and striking. Were we to presume, that 
every principle is dubious against whicli specious objections 
may be contrived, we should be quickly led into universal 
scepticism. The two ways in which the ingenuity of specu- 
lative men has been most commonly employed, are dogmatical 
assertions of doubtful opinions, and subtle cavils against cer- 
tain iriiihs. 

Gerard's DissertatioJis, ii. 4. 



chap.it. an essay on truth. 247 

self to confute any axiom in y(!f>mctry, or to argue 
against the existence of a sentiment, acknowledged 
and felt by all mankind. Indeed I cannot see how 
such a person should ever impose upon people of 
sense, except by availing hlnjself of exj)ressions, 
which either are in themselves aml)iguous, or he- 
come no hy his manner of applying them. If the 
ambiguity be discernible, the argument can have 
no force ; if there i)e no suspicion of ambiguity, tfie 
dispute may be continued from generation to genft- 
ration, without working any change in the '/ riti- 
ments of either party. When fact is disreg;»rded, 
when intuition goes for nothing, when no stanrlard 
of truth is acknowledged, and iivcry unanswered 
argument is deemed unanswerable, true reasoning 
18 at an end; and the (iis[)utant, having long ago 
lost sight of common sense, is so far irom regaining 
the path of truth, that, like 'l'hr>mpson'8 peasant 
bewildered in tlie snow, he crintinues " to wander 
on still njore and more astray." li any p(-rsf>n will 
give himself the tn>ui>le tr> examine the whr)l(; con- 
troversy crjncerrjirig lif)erty and necessity, he will 
find, that the arguments on l)ot.h sifies come at last 
to apj)ear unanswerable: — there is no common 
principle acknowledged by both j)arties, to wliich 
an appeal can be made, and each party charges the 
other with begging the rpustlon. Is it not then 
better to rest satisfied with the simple feeling of 
the understand in gr I feel that it is in my power to 
will or not to will: all you can say abf>ut the in- 
Huence of motives will ru:vi:r convince me of the 
contrary; or if I should say that I am convinced 
by your argiunents, my conduct must continually 
bely my profession. One tiling is undeniable: 
your words are obscure, my feeling is not ; — this 
is universiilly attended to, acknowledgr.d and act- 
ed ui)on ; those tO the majority of maukiud would 

V 2 



.248 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART I|* 

be unintelligible, nay, perhaps they are in a great 
measure so even to yourselves. 



CHAP. III. 

Recapitulation and Inference. 

THE substance of the preceding illustrations, 
when applied to the principal purpose of this dis- 
course, is as folio weth: 

Although it be certain, that all just reasoning 
does ultimately terminate in the principles of com- 
mon sense ; that is, in principles which must be 
admitted as certain, or as probable, upon their own 
authority, without evidence, or at least without 
proof; even as all mathematical reasoning does 
ultimately terminate in self-evident axioms : yet 
philosophers, especially those who have applied 
themselves to the investigation of the laws of hu- 
man nature, have not always been careful to con- 
fine the reasoning faculty within its proper sphere, 
but have vainly imagined, that even the principles 
of common sense are subject to the cognisance of 
reason, and may be either confirmed or confuted 
by argument. They have accordingly, in many 
instances, carried their investigations higher than 
the ultimate and self-supported principles of com- 
mon sense ; and by so doing have introduced ma- 
ny errors, and much false reasoning, into the mo- 
ral sciences. To remedy this, it was proposed, as 
a matter deserving serious attention, to ascertain 
the separate provinces of reason and common 
sense. And because, in many cases, it may be 
difficult to distinguish a principle of common sense 
from an acquired prejudice ; and, consequently, to 
know at what point reasoning ought to stop, and the 
authority of common sense to be admitted as deci- 



CHAP. III. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 249 

sive ; it was therefore j udged expedient to inquire, 
"Whether such reasonings as have been prosecut- 
ed beyond ultimate principles, be not marked with 
' some peculiar characters, by which they may be 
distingivished from legitimate investigation." To 
illustrate this point, the doctrines of the non-exis- 
tence of matter^ and the necessity of human actions^ 
were pitched upon as examples ; in which, at least 
in the former of which, common sense, in the opi- 
nion of all competent judges, is confessedly violat- 
ed ; — the natural effects produced upon the mind 
by the reasonings that have been urged in favour 
of these doctrines, were considered ; — and the con- 
sequences, resulting from the admission of such 
reasonings, were taken notice of, and explained. 
And it was found, that the reasonings that \have 
been urged in favour of these doctrines, are really 
marked with some peculiar characters, which it is 
presumed, can belong to no legitimate argumenta- 
tion whatsoever. Of these reasonings it was ob- 
served, and proved, " That the doctrines they are 
intended to establish are contradictory to the ge- 
neral belief of all men in all ages ; — — That, though 
enforced and supported with singular subtlety, and 
though admitted by some professed philosophers, 
they do not produce that conviction which souncl 
reasoning never fails to produce in the intelligent 
mind; — and, lastly. That really to believe, and to 
act from a real belief of such doctrines and reason- 
ings, must be attended with fatal consequences to 
science, to virtue, to human society, and to all the 
important interests of mankind." 

I do not suppose, that all the errors which have 
arisen from not attending to the foundation of 
truth, and essential rules of reasoning, as here ex- 
plained, are equally dangerous. Some of them 
perhaps may be innocent ; to such the last of these 
characters cannot belong. If wholly innocent, it is 



250 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART II. 

of little consequence, whether we know them to be 
errors or not. When a new tenet is advanced in 
moral science, there will be a strong presumption 
against it, if contrary to universal opinion : for as 
every man may find the evidence of moral science 
in his own breast, it is not to be supposed, that the 
generality of mankind would, for any length of 
time, persist in an error, which their own daily ex- 
perience, if attended to without prejudice, could 
not fail to rectify. Let, therefore, the evidence of 
the new tenet be carefully examined, and attended 
to. If it produce a full and clear conviction in the 
intelligent mind, and at the same time serve to ex- 
plain the causes of the universality and long conti- 
nuance of the old erroneous opinion, the new one 
ought certainly to be received as true. But if the, 
assent produced by the new doctrine be vague, in- 
definite and unsatisfying; if nature and common 
sense reclaim against it ; if it recommend modes 
of thought that are inconceivable, or modes of ac- 
tion that are impracticable: it is not, it cannot be 
true, however plausible its evidences may appear. 
Some will think, perhaps, that a straighter and 
shorter course might have brought me sooner, and 
with equal security, to this conclusion. I acknow- 
ledge I have taken a pretty wide circuit. This 
was owing in part to my love of perspicuity, which 
in these subjects hath not always been studied so 
much as it ought to have been ; and partly, and 
chiefly, to my desire of confuting, on this occasion, 
(as I wish to have done with metaphysical contro- 
versy for ever), as many of the most pernicious 
tenets of modern scepticism as could be brought 
within my present plan. But the reader will per- 
ceive, that I have endeavoured to conduct all my 
digressions in such a manner, as that they might 
serve for illustrations of the principal subject*. 



CHAP. III. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 25l 

To teach men to distinguish by intuition a dic- 
tate of common sense from an acquired prejudice, 
is a work which nature only can accomplish. We 
shall ever be more or less sagacious in thi^ respect, 
according as Heaven has endowed us with great- 
er or less strength of mind, vivacity of perception^ 
and solidity of judgment. The method here re- 
commended is more laborious, and much less ex- 
peditious. Yet this method, if I am not greatly 
mistaken, may be of considerable use, to enable us 
to form a proper estimate of those reasonings, 
which, by violating common sense, tend to subvert 
every principle of rational belief, to sap the foun- 
dations of truth and science, and to leave the mind 
exposed to all the horrors of scepticism. To be 
puzzled by such reasonings, is neither a crime nor 
a dishonour; though in many cases it may be 
both dishonourable and criminal to suffer ourselves 
to be deluded by them. For is not this to prefer 
the equivocal voice of a vain, selfish, and ensnar- 
ing wrangler, to the clear, the benevolent, the in- 
fallible dictates of nature ? Is not this to bely our 
sentiments, to violate our constitution, to sin 
against our own soul? Is not this '' to forsake 
the fountains of living water, and to hew out unto 
ourselves broken cisterns that can hold no water?" 



Px\RT III. 

OBJECTIONS ANSWERED, 

THEY who consider virtue as a subject of mere 
curiosity, and think that the principles of morals 
and properties of conic sections ought to be ex- 
plained with the same degree of apathy and indif- 
ference, will find abundant matter for censure in 
the preceding observations. As the author is not 



252 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

very ambitious of the good opinion of such theo- 
rists, he* v/ill not give himself much trouble in 
raultiplying apologies for what, to them, may have 
the appearance of keenness or severity in the ani- 
madversions he has hitherto made, or mav hereaf- 
ter make, on the principles of certain noted philo- 
sophers. He considers happiness as the end and 
aim of our being; and he thinks philosophy valu- 
able only so far as it may be conducive to this end. 
Human hjippiness seemeth to him wholly unattain- 
able, except by the means that virtue and religion 
provide. He is therefore persuaded, that while 
employed in pleading the cause of virtue, and of 
true science, its best auxiliary, he supports, in 
some measure, the character of a friend to human 
kind ; and he would think his right to that glori- 
ous appellation extremely questionable, if the 
warmth of his zeal did not bear some proportion ta 
the importance of his cause. However suspicious 
he may be of his ability to vindicate the rights of 
his fellow creatures, he is not suspicious of his in- 
clination. He feels that, on such a subject, he 
must speak from the heart, or not speak at all. — 
For the genius and manner of his discourse he has 
no other apology to offer: and by every person of 
spirit, candour, and benevolence, he is sure that 
this apology will be deemed sufficient^: 

As to the principles and matter of it, he is less 
confident. These, though neither visionary nor 
vmimportant, may possibly be misunderstood. He 
therefore begs leave to urge a few things, for the 
further vindication and illustration of them. To 
his own mind they are fully satisfactory; he hopes 
to render them equally so to every candid reader. 
Happy ! if he should be as successful in establish- 
ing conviction, as others have been in subverting 
it. 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRVTH, 253 



CHAP. I. 

Further remarks on the consistency of these prtnci* 
pies xvhh the interests of Science^ and the Rights 
of mankind. 

IT may possibly be objected to this discourse. 
That "it tends to discourage freedom of inquiry, 
and to promote implicit faith." 

But nothing is more contrary to my design ; as 
those Mho a -tend, without prejudice, to the full 
import of what I have advanced on the subject of 
evidence, will undoubtedly perceive. Let me be 
permitted to repeat, that the truths in which man is 
most concerned, do not lie exceedingly deep ; nor 
are we to estimate either their importance, or their 
certainty, by the length of the line of our investi* 
gation. The evidences of the philosophy of human 
nature are found in our own breast ; we need not 
roam abroad in quest of them ; the unlearned are 
judges of them as well as the learned. Ambigui- 
ties have arisen, when the feelings of the heart and 
understanding were expressed in words; but the 
feelings themselves were not ambiguous. Let a 
man attentively examine himself, with a sincere 
purpose of discovering the truth, and without any 
bias in favour of particular theories, and he will 
seldom be at a loss in regard to those truths, at 
least, that are most essential to his happiness and 
duty. If men must needs amuse themselves with 
metaphysical investigation, let them apply it, where 
it can do no harm, to the distinctions and logoma- 
chies of ontology. In the science of human nature 
it cannot possibly do good, but must of necessity 
do infinite mischief. What avail the obscure de« 
ductions of verbal argument, in illustrating what 
we sufficiently know by experie^nce t or in shewing 



a54 AN ESSAY ON TRUTIf. PART III* 

that to be fictitious and false, whose energ}^ we must 
feel and acknowledge every moment? When there- 
fore I find a pretended principle of human nature 
evinced by a dark and intricate investigation, I am 
tempted to suspect, not without reason, that its 
evidence is no where to be found but in the argu- 
ments of the theorist; and these, when disguised 
by quaint distinctions, and ambiguous language, 
it is sometimes hard to confute, even when the 
heart recoils from the doctrine with contempt or 
detestation. If the doctrine be true, it must also 
be agreeable to experience : to experience, there- 
fore, let the appeal be made ; let the circumstances 
be pointed out, in which the controverted sentiment 
arises, or is supposed to arise. This is to act the 
philosopher, not the metaphysician ; the interpreter 
of nature, not the builder of systems. But let us 
consider the objection more particularly. 

What then do you mean by that implicit faith, 
to which you suppose these principles too favour- 
able? Do you mean an acquiescence in the dictates- 
of our own understanding, or in those of others-? 
If the former, I must tell you, that such implicit 
faith is the only kind of belief which true philo- 
sophy recommends. I have already remarked, 
that, while man continues in his present state, our 
own intellectual feelings are, and must be, the 
standard of truth to us. All evidence productive 
of belief, is resolvable into the evidence of consci- 
ousness ; and comes at last to this point, I believe 
because I believe, or because the law of my nature 
determines me to believe. This belief may be 
called implicit ; but it is the only rational belief of 
which we are capable : and to say, that our minds 
ought not to submit to it, is as absurd as to say, 
that our bodies ought not to be nourished with 
food. Revelation itself must be attended with 
evidence to satisfy consciousness or common sense ; 



CHAP, I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2^^' 

Otherwise it can never be rationally believed. By 
the evidence of the gospel, the rational Christian 
is persuaded that it comes from God. He ac^ 
quiesces in it as truth, not because it is recom- 
mended by others, but because it satisfies his own 
understanding. 

But if, by implicit faith, you mean, what I think 
is commonly meant by that term, an unwarrant- 
able or unquestioned acquiescence in the sentiments 
of other men, I deny that any part of this discourse 
hath a tendency, to promote it. I never said, that 
doctrines are to be taken for granted without ex- 
amination; though I affirmed, that, in regard to 
moral doctrines, a long and intricate examination 
is neither necessary nor expedient. With moral 
truth, it is the business of every man to be acquaint- 
ed ; and therefore the Deity has made it level to 
every capacity. 

Far be it from a lover of truth to discourage free- 
dom of inquiry! Man is possessed of reasoning 
powers ; by means of which we may bring that 
within the sphere of common sense, which was 
originally beyond it. Of these powders he may, and 
ought to avail himself ; for many important truths 
are not self-evident, and our faculties were not de- 
signed for a state of inactivity. But neither were 
they designed to be employed in fruitless or dan- 
gerous investigation. Our knowledge and capacity 
are limited ; it is fit and necessary they should be 
so : we need not wander into forbidden paths, or 
attempt to penetrate inaccessible regions, in quest 
of employment ; the cultivation of useful and prac- 
tical science, the improvement of arts, and the in- 
dispensable duties of life, will furnish ample scope 
to all the exertions of human genius. Surely that 
man is my friend, who dissuades me from attempt- 
ing what I cannot perform, nor even attempt with- 



256 An ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

out danger^ And is not he a friend to science and 
mankind, who endeavours to discourage fallacious 
and unprofitable speculation, and to propose a cri- 
terion by which it may be known and avoided ? 

But if reasoning ought not to be carried beyond 
a certain boundary, and if it is the authority of 
common sense that fixeth this boundary, and if it 
be possible to mistake a prejudice for a principle 
of common sense, how (it may be said) are preju- 
dices to be detected ? At this rate, a man has no- 
thing to do, but to call his prejudice a dictate of 
common sense, and then it is established in perfect 
security, beyond the reach of argument. Does not 
this furnish a pretence for limiting the freedom o£: 
inquiry? — Having already said a great deal in an- 
swer to the first part of this question, I need not 
now say much in answer to the last. I shall only 
ask, on the other hand, what method of reasoning 
is the properest for overcoming the prejudices of 
an obstinate man ? Are we to wrangle with him 
in hifinitum^ without ever arriving at any fixed 
principle ? That surely is not the way to illustrate 
truth, or rectify error. Do we mean to ascertain 
the importance of our arguments by their number, 
and to pronounce that the better cause whose cham- 
pion gives the last word I This, I fear, would not 
mend the matter. Suppose our antagonist should 
deny a self-evident truth, or refuse his assent to an 
intuitive probability ; must we not refer him to the 
coipmon sense of mankind? If we do not, we must 
either hold our peace, or have recourse to sophistry: 
for when a principle comes to be intuitively true 
or false, all legitimate reasoning is at an end, and 
all further reasoning impertinent. To the common 
sense of mankind we must therefore refer him soon- 
er or later ; and if he continue obstinate, we must 
leave him. Is it not then of consequence to truth. 

A. ' 

and may it not servo to prevent many a sophistical 



CHAP, l.y AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* 25? 

argument, and unprofitable logomachy, that we 
have it continually in view, that common sense is 
the standard of truth? a maxim, which men are 
not always disposed to admit io its full latitude, and 
which, in the heat and hurry of dispute, they are 
apt to overlook altogether. Some men will always 
be found, who think the most absurd prejudices 
founded in common sense. Reasonable men never 
scruple to submit their prejudices or principles to 
examination: but if that examination turn to no 
account, or if it turn to a bad account; if it only 
puzzle where it ought to convince, and darken 
what it ought to illustrate; if it recommend im- 
practicable modes of action, or inconceivable modes 
pf thought; — I must confess I cannot perceive the 
use of it. This is the only kind of reasoning that 
I mean to discourage. It is this kind of reasoning 
that has proved so fatal to the abstract sciences. 
In it all our sceptical systems are founded ; of it 
they consist ; and by it they are supported. Till 
the abstract sciences be cleared of this kind of rea- 
soning, they deserve not the name of philosophy : 
they may amuse a weak and turbulent mind, and 
render it still weaker and more turbulent ; but they 
cannot convey any real instruction : they may un- 
dermine the foundations of virtue and science ; but 
they cannot illustrate a single truth, nor establish 
one principle of importance, nor improve the mind 
of man in any respect whatsoever. 

By some it may be thought an objection to the 
principles of this essay, '^ That they seem to recom- 
mend a method of confutation which is not strict- 
ly according to logic, and do actually contradict 
some of the established laws of that science." 

It will readily be acknowledged, that many of 
the maxims of the school-logic are founded in truth 
and nature, and have so long obtained universal 
approbation, that they are now become proverbial 



258 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

in philosophy. Many of its rules and distinctions 
are extremely useful, not so much for strengthen- 
ing the judgment, as for enabling the disputant 
quickly to comprehend, and perspicuously to ex- 
press, in what the force or fallacy of an argument 
consists. The ground work of this science, the 
I-.ogic of Aristotle, if we may judge of the whole 
by the part now extant, is one of the most successful 
and most extraordinary effects of philosophic geni- 
us that ever appeared in the world. And yet, if 
we consider this science, with regard to its design 
and consequences, we shall perhaps see reason to 
think, that a strict observance of its lav/s is not al- 
ways necessary to the discovery of truth. 

It v/as originally intended as a help to discourse 
among a talkative and sprightly people. The con- 
stitution of Athens made public speaking of great 
importance, and almost a certain road to preferment 
or distinction. This was also in some measure the 
case at Rome; but the Romans were more reserved, 
and did not, tiU about the time of Cicero, think of 
reducing conversation or public speaking to rule. 
The vivacity of the Athenians, encouraged by their 
democratical spirit, made them fond of disputes 
and declamations, which were often carried on 
without any view to discover truth, but merely to 
gratify humour, give employment to the tongue, 
and amuse a vacant hour. Some of the dialogues 
of Plato are to be considered in this light, rather 
as exercises in declamation, than serious disquisi- 
tions in philosophy. It is true, this is not the only 
merit even of such of them as seem the least con- 
siderable. If we are often dissatisfied with his 
doctrine; if we have little curiosity to learn the 
characters and manners of that age, whereof he 
has given so natural a representation; w^e must yet 
acknowledge, that as models for elegance and sim- 
plicity of composition, the most inconsiderable of 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2S9 

Plato's dialogues are very useful and ingenious. 
His speakers often compliment each other on the 
beauty of their style, even when there is nothing 
very striking in the sentiment"^. If therefore, we 
would form a just estimate of Plato, w^e must re- 
gard him not only as a philosopher, but also as a 
rhetorician; for it was evident he was ambitious to 
excel in both characters. But it appears, not to 
have been his opinion, that the practice of extem- 
porary speaking and disputing, so frequent in his 
time, had any direct tendency to promote the inves- 
tigation of truth, or the acquisition of wisdom.. 
The Lacedemonians, the most reserved and most 
silent people in Greece, and who made the least 
pretensions to a literary character, were, in his 
judgment, a nation not only of the wisest men, 
but of the greatest philosophers. Their words 
were few, their address not without rusticity; but 
the meanest of them was able, by a single expres- 
sion, dexterously aimed, and seasonably introduced, 
to make the stranger with whom he conversed, ap- 
pear no wiser than a childf. 

The Athenians, accustomed to reduce every 
thing to art, and among whom the spirit of science 
was more prevalent than in any other nation ancient 
or modern, had contrived a kind of technical logic 
long before the days of Aristotle. Their sophists 
taught it in conj unction with rhetoric and philoso- 
phy. But Aristotle brought it to perfection, and 

* See the Symposium, Platonis opera, vol. 3. p. 19&. Edit. 
S err an. 

jf Et ris i9eXoi AocycB^xi(j(,oviuv tm (pocvXonxrco a-vyysn<j9xij rx 
^ev 9ToXXi% £v rois Xoyois BVpioarsi avrov <p<xvXov rtvoc <pacivo{ji.BVoyf 
£'57£/T<3f ozjov ocv Tvyoi TMv ?^EyofABvu>V) inQocX^ p'n^/.x oc^iov Koyov 

Toy 7SpO(j^i3t.Kiyo!j^iyQy TTxioos (xyjosv bsAr/o;. 

Socrates in Fiat. FrotogorUj voL l./>. 342> 
2 2 



260 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

seems to have been the first who professedly dis- 
joined it from the other arts and sciences. On his 
logic was founded that of the school-men. But 
they, like other commentators, often misunderstood 
the text, and often perverted it to the purpose of a 
favourite system. They differed from one another 
in their notions of Aristotle's doctrine, ranged 
themselves into sects and parties ; and instead of 
explaining the principles of their master, made it 
their sole business to comment upon one another. 
Now and then men of learning arose, who endea- 
voured to revive the true Peripatetic philosophy ; 
but their efforts, instead of proving successful, 
served only to provoke persecution ; and at length 
the scholastic system grew so corrupt, and at the 
same time so enormous in magnitude, that it be- 
came an insuperable incumbrance to the under- 
standing, and contributed not a little to perpetuate 
the ignorance and barbarism of those times. The 
chief aim of the old logic, even in its purest form, 
(so far at least as it was a practical science), was 
to render men expert in arguing readily on either 
side of any question. But it is one thing to employ 
our faculties in searching after truth, and a very 
different thing to employ them equally in defence 
of truth and of error ; and the same modification 
of intellect that fits a man for the one, will by no 
means qualify him for the other. Nay, if I mistake 
not, the talents that fit us for discovering truth, are 
Tather hurt than improved by the practice of so- 
phistry. To argue against one's own conviction, 
must always have a bad effect on the heart, and 
render one more indifferent about the truth, and 
perhaps more incapable of perceiving it^. 

See the story of Pertinax in the Rambler, No. 95 ; where 
the eiFects of habitual disputation, in perverting the judgment, 
and vitiating the heart, are illustrated with the utmost energy 
and elegance. 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, 261 

To dispute readily on either side of any question, 
is admired by some as a very high accomplishment: 
but it is what any person of moderate abilities may 
easily acquire by a little practice. Perhaps mode- 
rate abilities are the most favourable to the acqui- 
sition of this talent. Sensibility and penetration, 
the inseparable attendants, or rather the most essen- 
tial parts of true genius, qualify a man for dis- 
covering truth with little labour of investigation ; 
and at the same time interest him so deeply in it, 
that he cannot bear to turn his view to the other 
side of the question. Thus he never employs him- 
self in devising arguments ; and therefore seldom 
arrives at any proficiency in that exercise. But the 
man of slow intellect and dull imagination advances 
step by step in his inquiries, without any keenness 
of sentiment, or ardor of fancy, to distract his at- 
tentioi) ; and without that instantaneous anticipa- 
tion of consequences, that leads the man of genius 
to the conclusion, even before he has examined all 
the intermediate relations. Hence he naturally ac- 
quires a talent for minute observation, and for a pa- 
tient examination of circumstances ; at the same 
time that his insensibility prevents his interesting 
himself warmly on either side, and leaves him lei- 
sure to attend equally to his own arguments, and to 
those of the antagonist. This gives him eminent 
superiority in a dispute, and fits him, not indeed 
for discovering truth, but for baffling an adversary 
and supporting a system. 

I have been told that Newton, the first time he 
read Euclid's Elements, perceived instantly, and al- 
most intuitively, the truth of the several proposi- 
tions, before he consulted the proof. Such vivacity 
and strength of judgment are extraordinary: and in- 
deed, in the case of mathematical and physical 
truths, we are seldom to expect this instantaneous 
anticipation of consequences, even from men of 



'262 . AN ESSAY ON TRlf T^. PART III. 

more than moderate talents- But in moral subjects, 
and in most of the matters that are debated in con- 
versation, there is rarely anjr need of comparing a 
great number of intermediate relations : every per- 
son of sound judgment sees the truth at once : or, 
if he does not, it is owing to his ignorance of some 
facts or circumstances, which may be soon learned 
from a plain narrative, but which are disguised and 
confounded more and more by wrangling and con- 
tradiction. If there be no means of clearing the 
disputed facts or difficulties, it would not, I pre- 
sume, be imprudent to drop the subject, and talk 
of something else. 

It is pleasant enough to hear the habitual wrang- 
ler endeavouring to justify his conduct by a pre- 
tence of zeal for the truth. It is not the love of 
truth, but of .victory, that engages him in disputa- 
tion. I have w itnessed many contests of this kind ; 
but have seldom seen them lead, or even tend to 
any useful discovery. Where ostentation, self-con- 
ceit, or love of paradox, are not concerned, they 
commonly arise from some verbal ambiguity, or 
from the misconception of some fact, which both 
parties taking it for granted that they perfectly un- 
derstand, are at no pains to ascertain: and, when 
once begun, are, by the vanity or obstinacy of the 
speakers,pr perhaps by their mere love of speaking, 
continued, till accident put an end to them by si- 
lencing the parties, rather than reconciling their 
opinions. I once saw a number of persons, neither 
unlearned nor ill-bred, meet together to pass a so- 
.cial evening. As ill-luck would have it, a dispute 
arose about the propriety of a certain manoeuvre at 
quadrille, in which some of the company had been 
interested the night before. Two parties of dispu- 
tants were immediately formed ; and the matter was 
warmly argued from six o'clock till midnight, when 
the company broke up. Being no adept in cards, I 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 263 

could not enter into the merits of the cause, nor 
take any part in the controversy ; but I observed, 
that each of the speakers persisted to the last in 
the opinion he took up at the beginning, in which 
he seemed to be rather confirmed than staggered 
by the arguments that had been urged in opposi- 
tion. — With such enormous waste of time, with 
such vile prostitution of reason and speech, with 
such wanton indifference to the pleasures of friend- 
ship, all disputes are not attended ; but most of 
them, if I mistake not, will be found to be equally 
unprofitable. 

I grant, that much of our knowledge is gathered 
from our intercourse with one another ; but I can- 
not think that we are greatly indebted to the argu- 
mentative part Tjf conversation; and nobody will 
say, that the most disputatious companions are ei- 
ther the most agreeable or the most instructive. 
For my own part, I have always found those to be 
the most delightful and most improving conversa- 
tions, in which there was the least contradiction ; 
every person entertaining the utmost possible res- 
pect, both for the judgment, and for the veracity 
of his associate > and none assuming any of those 
dictatorial airs, which are so offensive to the lov- 
ers of liberty, modesty, and friendship. — If a ca- 
talogue were to be made of all the truths that have 
been discovered by wrangling in company, or by 
solemn disputations in the schools, I believe 'it 
would appear, that the contending parties might 
have been employed as advantageously to mankind, 
and much more so to themselves, in whipping a 
top, or brandishing a rattle. 

The extravagant fondness of the Stoics for logi- 
cal quibbles, is one of the most disagreeable pecu- 
liarities in the writings of that sect. Every body 
must have been disgusted with it in reading some 
passages of the conversations of Epictetus, pre- 



264 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

served by Arrian; and must be satisfied^ that it 
tended rather to weaken and bewilder, than to im- 
prove the understanding. One could hardly be- 
lieve to what ridiculous excess they carried it. 
There was a famous problem among them called 
the Pseudomcnos^ which was to this purpose : 
*^ When a man says, I /ie, does he lie, or does he 
not I* If he lies, he speaks truth ; if he speaks truth, 
he lies." Many were the books that their philo- 
sophers wrote, in order to solve this wonderful 
problem. Chrj^ippus favoured the world with no 
fewer than six ; and Philetas studied himself to 
death in his attempts to solve it. Epictetus, whose 
good sense often triumphs over the extravagance 
of Stoicism, justly ridicules this logical phrenzy*. 

Socrates made little account of the subtleties of 
logic; being more solicitous to instruct others 
than to distinguish himselff. He inferred his doc- 
trine from the concessions of those with whom he 
conversed; so that he left no room for dispute, as 
the adversary could not contradict him, without 
contradicting himself. And yet to Socrates, phi- 
losophy is perhaps more indebted than to any other 
person whatever. 

We have therefore no reason to think, that truth 
is discoverable by those means only which the 
technical logic prescribes. Aristotle knew the the- 
ory both of sophisms and syllogisms, better than 
any other man; yet Aristotle himself is sometimes 
imposed on by sophisms of his own inventionij:. 

* Arrian, lib. ii. cap. \7, 

fSupra, part 2. chap. 2. sect. 1. 

|Thus he is said to have proved the earth to be the centre 
of the universe, by the following sophism. — ♦' Heavy bodies 
naturally tend to the centre of the universe f we know by ex- 
perience, that heavy bodies tend to the centre of the earthy 
therefore the centre of the earth is the same with that of the 

universe." Which is what the logicians t all j&ft/f20/>ri?*ci}^«j 

or begging the question* 



CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 265 

And it is remarkable, that his moral, rhetorical, 
and political writings, in which his own excellent 
judgment is little warped by logical subtleties, are 
far the most useful, and, in point of sound reason- 
ing, the most unexceptionable part of his philoso- 
phy. 

The apparent tendency of the school-logic is, to 
render men disputatious and sceptical, adepts in 
the knowledge of words, but inattentive to fact and 
experience. It makes them fonder of speaking 
than thinking, and therefore strangers to them- 
selves ; solicitous chiefly about rules, names, and 
distinctions, and therefore leaves them neither lei- 
sure nor inclination for the study of life and man- 
ners. ^ In a word, it makes them more ambitious 
to distinguish themselves as the partizans of a dog- 
matist, than as inquirers after truth. It is easy to 
see how far a man of this temper is qualified to 
make discoveries in knowledge. To such a man, 
indeed, the name of truth is only a pretence : he 
neither is, nor can be, much interested in the so- 
lidity or importance of his tenets; it is enough if 
he can render them plausible ; nay, it is enough if 
he can silence his adversary by any means. The 
captious turn of an habitual wrangler, deadens the 
understanding, sours the temper, and hardens the 
heart: by rendering the mind suspicious, and at- 
tentive to trifles, it weakens the sagacity of instinct, 
and extinguishes the fire of imagination ; it trans- 
forms conversation into a state of warfare, and res- 
trains those lively sallies of fancy, so effectual in 
promoting good humour and good-will, which, 
though often erroneous, are a thousand times more 
trainable than the dull correctness of a mood-and- 
figure disciplinarian. 

One of the first maxims of the school-logic is, 
That nothing is to be believed, but what we can 
give a reason for believing ; a maxim destructive 



266 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

of all truth and science, as hath been fully shown 
in the former part of this discourse. We must 
not, however, lay this maxim to the charge of the 
ancient logic. Des Cartes, and the modern scep- 
tics, got it from the schoolmen, who forged it out 
of some passages of Aristotle misunderstood. The 
philosopher said indeed, that all investigation 
should begin with doubt ; but this doubt is to re- 
main only till the understanding be convinced; 
which, in Aristotle's judgment, may be effected by 
intuitive evidence as well as by argumentative. 
The doctrine we have been endeavouring to illus- 
trate, tends not to encourage any prejudices, or 
any opinions, unfriendly to truth or virtue: its 
only aim is, to establish the authority of those in- 
stinctive principles of conviction and assent, vrhich 
the rational part of mankind have acknowledged in 
all ages, and which the condition of man, in respect 
both of action and intelligence, renders it absurd 
not to acknowledge. — We cannot suppose, that the 
human mind, unlike to all other natural systems, is 
made up of incompatible principles; in it, as in all 
the rest, there must be unity of design ; and there- 
fore the principles of human belief, and of human 
action, must have one and the same tendency. But 
many of our modern philosophers teach a different 
doctrine ; endeavouring to persuade themselves, 
and others, that they ought not to believe what they 
cannot possibly disbelieve ; and that those actions 
may be absurd, and contrary to truth, the perform- 
ance of which is necessary to our very existence. 
If they will have it, that this is philosophy, I shall 
not dispute about the word ; but I insist on it, that 
all such philosophy is no better than pedantic non- 
sense ; and that, if a man were to write a book, to 
prove, that fire is the element in which we ought to 
live, he would not act more absurdly, than some 
metaphysicians of these times would be thought to 



CHAP. 1. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 267 

have acted, if their works were understood, and 
rated according to their intrinsic merit. 

That every thing may be made matter of dis- 
pute, is another favourite maxim of the school-lo- 
gic ; and it would not be easy to devise one more 
detrimental to true science. What a strange pro- 
pensity these doctors have had to disputation! 
One would think, that, in their judgment, " the 
chief end of man is, to contradict his neighbour, 
and wrangle with him for ever." To attempt a 
proof of what I know to be false, and a confutation 
of what I know to be true, is an exercise from 
which I can never expect advantage, so long as I 
deem rationality a blessing. I never heard it pre- 
scribed as a recipe for strengthening the sight, to 
keep constantly blindfolded in the day-time, and 
put on spectacles when we go to sleep; nor can I 
imagine how the ear of a musician could be im- 
proved, by his playing frequently on an ill-tuned 
fiddle. And vet the school-men seem to have 
thought, that the more we shut our eyes against 
the truth, we shall the more distinctly perceive it ; 
and that tlie oftener we practise falsehood, we shall 
be the more sagacious in detecting, and the more 
hearty in abhorring it. To suppose, that we may 
make every thing matter of dispute, is to suppose^ 
that we can account for every thing. Alas! in 
most cases, to feel and believe, is all we have to 
do, or can do. Destined for action rather than for 
knovvledge, and governed more by instinct than by 
reason, we can extend our investigations, especial- 
ly with regard to ourselves, but a very little way. 
And, after all, when we acquiesce with implicit 
confidence in the dictates of our nature, where is 
the harm or the danger of such a conduct ? Is our 
life shortened, or health injured by it ? No. Are 
our judgments perverted, or our hearts corrupted ? 

A a 



%6S AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART iil» 

No. Is our happiness impaired, or the sphere of 
o-ur gratification contracted? Quite the contrary. 
Have we less leisure for attending to the duties of 
life, and for adorning our minds with useful and 
elegant literature ? We have evidently more time 
left for those purposes. Why then so itiuch logic ? 
so many disputes, and so many theories, about the 
first philosophy? Rather than in disguising false- 
hood, and labouring to subvert the foundations of 
truth, why do we not, with humility and candour, 
employ our faculties in the attainment of plain, 
practical, and useful knowledge ? 

The consequences of submitting every sentiment 
and principle to the test of reasoning, have been 
considered already. This practice has, in every 
age, tended much to confound science, to prevent 
the detection of error, and (may we not add ?) to 
debase the human understanding. For, have we 
not seen real genius, under the influence of a dis- 
putatious spirit, derived from nature, fashion, or 
education, evaporate in subtlety, sophistry, and 
vain refinement? Lucretius, Cicero, and Des 
Cartes, might be mentioned as examples. And it 
will be matter of lasting regret in the republic of 
letters, that a greater than the greatest of these, I 
mean John Milton, had the misfortune to be born 
in an age when the study of scholastic theology was 
deemed an essential part of intellectual discipline. 

It is either affectation or false modestv, that ^ 
makes men say they know nothing with pertainty. 
Man's knowledge, indeed, compared with that of 
superior b<iAjigs, may be very inconsiderable; and 
compared with that of the Supreme, is *' as no- 
thing and vanity ;'' and it is true, that we are dai- 
ly puzzled in attempting to account for the most 
familiar appearances. But it is true, notwith- 
standing, that we do know, and cannot possibly 



«CHAP. I. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 269 

doubt of our knowing, some things with certainty. 
And, 

" Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, 
*** These little things are great to little man,"* 

To be vain of any attainment, is presumption and 
folly: but to think every thing disputable, is a 
proof of a w^eak mind and captious temper. And 
however sceptics may boast of their modesty, in 
disclaiming all pretensions to certain knowledge, I 
would appeal to the man of candour, whether they 
or we seem to possess least of that virtue ; — ^they 
who suppose, that they can raise insurmountable 
objections in every subject; or we, who believe 
that our Maker has permitted us to know with 
certainty some few things ? 

In opposition to this practice of making every 
thing matter of dispute, we have endeavoured to 
show, that the instinctive suggestions of common 
sense are the ultimate standard of truth to man; 
that whatever contradicts them is contrary to fact, 
and therefore false ; that to suppose them cognisable 
by reason, is to suppose truth as variable, as the in- 
tellectual, or as the argumentative abilities of men; 
and that it is an abuse of reason, and tends to the 
subversion of science, to call in question the au- 
thenticity of our natural feelings, and of the natural 
suggestions of the human understanding. 

That science never prospered while the old logic 
continued in fashion, is undeniable. Lord Veru- 
lam was one of the first who brought it into disre- 
pute ; and proposed a different method of investi- 
gating truth, namely, that the appearances of nature 
should be carefully observed, and instead of facts 
being wrested to make them fall in with theory, 

* Goldsmith's Traveller^' 



2(0 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

that theory should be cautiously inferred from facts, 
and from them only. The event has fully proved, 
tjiat our great philosopher was in the right: for 
science has made more progress since his time, and 
by his method, than for a thousand years before. 
The court of Rome well knew the importance of 
the school-logic in supporting their authority ; they 
knew it could be employed more successfully in 
distinguishing error, than in vindicating truth: 
and Puffendorff scruples not to affirm, that they 
patronised it for this very reason"^. Let it not 
then be urg-d, as an objection to this discourse, 
that it recommends a method of confutation which 
is not strictly logical. It is enough for me, that 
the method here recomm<:;ndi d is agreeable to good 
sense and sound philosophy, and to the general no^' 
tions and practices of men. 



CHAP. II. 

The subject continued. Estimate of MetaphysiCf, 
Causes of the Degeneracy of Moral Science. 

THE reader has no doubt observed, that I have 
frequently used the term metaphysic^ as if it im- 
plied something worthy of contempt or censure. 
That no lover of science may be offended, I shall 
now account for this ; by explaining the nature of 
that metaphysic which I conceive to be repugnant 
to true philosophy, though it has often assumed the 
name ; and which, therefore, in my judgment, the 
friends of truth ought solicitously to guard against. 
This explanation will lead to some remarks, that 
may perhaps throw additional light on the present 
subject. 

* De Monarchia Pontificis Romania cap. %% 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 27h 

Aristotle bequeathed by legacy his writings to 
Theophrastus ; who left them together with his 
own, to Neleus of Scepsis. The posterity of Ne- 
leus, being illiterate men, kept them for some 
time locked up; but afterwards hearing, that the 
king of the country was making a general search 
for books to furnish his library at Pergamus, they 
hid them in a hole under ground ; where they lay 
for many years, and suffered much from worms 
and dampness. At last, however, they were sold 
to one Apellicon, who caused them to be copied 
out; and, having (according to Strabo) a greater 
passion for books than for knowledge, ordered the 
transcribers to supply the chasnis from their own 
invention. When Sylla took Athens, he seized 
upon Apellicon's library, and carried it to Rome. 
Here the books of Aristotle were revised, by Ty- 
rannio the grammarian, and afterwards by Andro- 
nicus of Rhodes, a Peripatetic philosopher, who 
published the first complete edition of them^. To 
fourteen of these book, which it seems had no 
general title, Andronicus prefixed the words, Ta 
meta ta physica]^ that is, the books posterior to the 
physics; either because, in the order of the former 
arrangement, they happened to be placed, or be- 
cause the editor meant that they should be studied^ 
next after the physics. This is said to be the ori- 
gin of the word Metaphysic. 

The subject of these fourteen books is miscel- 
laneous : yet the Peripatetics seem to have con- 
sidered them as constituting but one branch of 
science ; the place of which in their system may b^ 
thus conceived. All philosophy is either specula- 
tive or practical. The practical regulates the 
moral and intellectual operations of men, and there- 

^ Strabo, p. 609. Paris edit. 1620. Plut. Sylla. 
"}• Tiu fMToi, ra 9vc7/)ca^ 

A a 2 



272 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

fore comprehends ethics and logic. The specula- 
tive rests in the knowledge of truth ; and is divided 
into three parts, to wit, Physics, which inquire 
into the nature of material substances, and the hu- 
man soul; Mathematics, which consider certain 
properties of body as abstracted from body; and 
this Metaphysic, (which Aristotle is said to have 
called Theology^ and the First Philosophy J ^ which, 
besides some remarks on truth in general, the 
method of discovering it, and the errors of former 
philosophers, explains, first, the general proper- 
ties of being, and, secondly, the nature of things 
Separate from matter, namely, of God the one 
first cause, and of the forty-seven inferior deities. 

Following the notion, that these fourteen books 
comprehend only one part of philosophy, the Chris- 
tian Peripatetics divided metaphysics into univer- 
sal and particular. In the first, they treated of 
being, and its properties and parts, considered as 
it is being"^ ; in the second, of God and angels. 

The schoolmtn disjoined the philosophy of the 
human mind from physics, where Aristotle had 
placed it; and added it to metaphysics, because 
its object is an immaterial substance. So that 
their metaphysics consisted of three parts : On- 
tology, in which they pretended to explain the 
general properties of being ; Pneumatics, which 
treated of the human mind; and Natural Theo- 
logy, which treated of the Supreme Being, and 
of those spirits which have either no body at all, 
or one so very fine as to be imperceptible to human 
sense. 

From the account we have given of the manner 
in whick^Aristotle's works were first published, 

* Metaphysique universelle a laquelle il est traicte de l*es- 
tant, et des aes proprietez, et des parties ou membresde 
i'estant, selon qu*U est estant, &c. Bouju* 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 273" 

the reader will admit, that some of the errors to 
be found in them may reasonably enough be im- 
puted to the first transcribers and editors. It was 
a gross error in distribution, to reduce God, and 
the inferior deities, who were conceived to be a 
particular species of beings, to the same class with 
those qualities or attributes that are common to all 
being, and to treat of both in the same part of phi- 
losophy. It was no less improper than if a physi- 
ologist should compose a treatise, '' Of men, horses, 
and identity." This inaccuracy could not have es-. 
caped Aristotle : it is to be charged on his editors, 
who probably mistook a series of treatises on vari- 
ous subjects for one treatise on one particular sub- 
ject. To many this may seem a trifling mistake ; 
but it has produced important consequences. It 
led the earlier Peripatetics into the impropriety of 
explaining the divine existence, and the general 
properties of being, by the same method of reason- 
ing ; and it induced the schoolmen to confound 
the important sciences of pneumatics and natural 
theology, with the idle distinctions and logomachies 
of ontology. Natural theology ought to consist of 
legitimate inferences from the effect to the cause ; 
pneumatics, or the philosophy of the human mind, 
are nothing but a detail of facts, illustrated, metho- 
dized, and applied to practice, by obvious and 
convincing reasonings : both sciences are founded 
in experience ; but ontology pretends to ascertain 
its principles by demonstrations a priori. In fact, 
though ontology were, what it professes to be, an 
explication of the general properties of being, it 
could not throw any light on natural theology and 
pneumatics; for in them the ontological method 
of reasoning would be as improper as the mathe- 
matical. But the systems of ontology that have 
come into my hands, are little better than vocabu- 
laries of those hard words which the schoolmen 



274f AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PAET III, 

had contrived, in order to give an air of mystery 
and importance to their doctrine. While, there- 
fore, the sciences of Natural Theology and Pneu- 
matics were, by this preposterous division, referred 
to the same part of philosophy with ontology, how 
was it possible they could prosper, or be explained 
by their own proper evidence ! In fact, they did 
not prosper : experience, their proper evidence, 
was laid aside ; and fictitious theory, disguised by 
ontological terms and distinctions, and supported 
by ontological reasoning, was substituted in its 
stead. 

Locke was one of the first who rescued the phi- 
losophy of human nature out of the hands of the 
schoolmen, cleared it of the enormous incumbrance 
of strange words which they had heaped upon it, 
and set the example of ascertaining our internal 
operations, not by theory, but by experience. His 
success was wonderful : for, though he has some- 
times fallen into the scholastic way of arguing, as in 
his first book ; and sometimes suffered himself to 
be imposed on by words, as in his account of secon- 
dary qualities, too rashly adopted from the Carte- 
sians ; yet has he done more to establish the abstract 
sciences on a proper foundation, than could have 
been expected from one man who derived almost all 
his lights from himself. His successors, Butler and 
Hutcheson excepted, have not been very fortunate* 
Berkeley's book, though written with a good de- 
sign, did more harm than good, by recommending 
and exemplifying ^ method of argumentation sub- 
versive of all knowledge, and leading directly to 
universal scepticism. Mr. Hume's Treatise and 
Essays are still more exceptionable. This author 
has revived the scholastic: way of reasoning from 
theory, and of wresting facts to make them coin- 
cide with it. His language is indeed more modish^ 
but equally favourable to sophistical argument^ and 



eiiAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* 275 

equally proper for giving an air of plausibility and 
importance to what is frivolous or unintelligible. 
What regard we are to pay to his profession of ar- 
guing from experience has been already considered. 

The word metaphysics^ According to the vulgar 
use, is applied to all disquisitions concerning things 
immaterial : In this sense, the plainest account of 
the faculties of the mind, and of the principles of 
moral and natural religion, would be termed meta- 
physics. Such metaphysics, however, we are so far 
from despising or censuring, that we account it the 
sublimest and most useful part of science. 

Those arguments also, and illustrations in the ab- 
stract philosophy, which are not obvious to ordi- 
nary understandings, are '.ometimes called metaphy-* 
sicaL But as the principles of this philosophy, how- 
ever well expressed, appear somewhat abstruse to 
one who is but a novice in the study ; and as very 
plain principles may seem intricate in an author who 
is inattentive to his expression, as the best author^ 
sometimes are, it would be unfair to reject, or con- 
ceive a prejudice against every doctrine in morab 
that is not perfectly free from obscurity. Yet a con- 
tinued obscurity in matters, whereof every man 
should be a competent judge, cannot fail to breed a 
suspicion, either that the doctrine is faulty, or that 
the writer is not equal to his subject. 

The term metaphysical^ in those passages of this 
book where it is expressive of censure, will be found 
to allude to that mode of abstract investigation, so 
common among the modern sceptics and the school- 
men, which is supported, either wholly by an am- 
biguous and indefinite phraseology, or by that in 
conjunction with a partial experience ; and which 
seldom fails to lead to such conclusions as contra- 
dict matter of fact, or truths of indisputable autho- 
rity. It is this mode of investigation that has intro- 
duced so many errors into the moral sciences ; for 



276 AN ESSAY 0*f TRUTH. PART III, 

few, even of ovir most candid moral philosophers, 
are entirely free from it. The love of sy-stem, or 
partiality to a favourite opinion, not only puts a 
man off his guard, so as to make him overlook 
inaccurate expressions, and indefinite notions, but 
may sometimes occasion even a mistake of fact. 
When such mistakes are frequent, and affect the 
most important truths, we must blame the author 
for want of candour, or want of capacity : when 
they are innocent, and recur but seldom, we ought 
to ascribe them to the imperfection of human na- 
ture. 

Instances of this metaphyslc are so common, 
that we might almost fill a volume with a list of 
them. Spinosa's pretended demonstration of the 
existence of the one great Being, by which, how- 
ever, he meant only the universe, is a metaphysical 
argument, founded on a series of false or unintelli- 
gible, though plausible, definitions'^. Berkeley's 
proof of the non-existence of matter is wholly 
metaphysical ; and arises chiefly from the mistake 
of supposing certain words to have but one mean- 
ing, which really have two, and sometimes three. 
The same author, in a book of sermons, said to 
have been delivered at the chapel of Trinity Col- 
lege, Dublinf, has endeavoured to enforce the 
detestable doctrine of passive obedience and non- 
resistance, by metaphysical arguments founded on 
an arbitrary explication of the term moral dutij ; 
from which he pretends to prove, that negative 
moral duties must never, on any account, be vio- 
lated ; and that passive obedience to supreme pow- 
er, wherever placed, is a negative moral duty. In 
this inquiry, he makes no account of those instinc- 

* See the Appendix to vol. I. of Chev. Ramsay's Principles 
of Religion. 

t The third edition of these sermons, which are three in 
number, was printed at London in the j^ear 1713. ^ 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 277 

live sentiments of morality whereof men are con- 
scious ; ascribing them to the blood and spirits, or 
to education and habit; and asserting, that the 
conduct of rational beings is to be directed, not by 
them, but by the dictates of sober and impartial 
reason. Locke's discourse against innate ideas 
and principles, is likewise too metaphysical. Some 
of his notions on that subject are, I believe, right; 
but he has not explained them with his wonted pre- 
cision ; aijd most of his arguments are founded on 
an ambiguous acceptation of the words idea and 
innate. 

The author of the Fable of the Bees seems to 
have carried this mode of reasoning as far as it 
will go. If there had been no ambiguous words 
in the English language, the understanding of 
mankind would never have been affronted with his 
system. Many of our appetites become criminal 
only when excessive ; and we have not always 
names to express that degree of indulgence which 
is consistent with virtue. The shameless word- 
catcher takes advantage of this, and confounds the 
innocent gratification with the excessive or crimi- 
nal indulgence ; calling both by the same name, 
and taking it for granted, that what he proves to 
be true of the one is also true of the other. What 
is it that may not be proved by this way of argu- 
ing? May not vice be proved to be virtue, and vir- 
tue to be vice ? May not a regard to reputation, 
cleanliness, industry, generosity, conjugal love, be 
proved to be the same with vanity, luxuiy, ava- 
rice, profusion, sensuality? May it not be proved, 
that private virtues are private vices ; and, conse- 
quently, that private vices are public benefits ? 
Such a conclusion is indeed so easily made out by 
such logic, that nothing but ignorance, impudence, 
and a hard heart, is necessary to qualify a man for 
making it. If it be said, that considerable genius 



^7*8 AN ESJ5AY ON TRUT,H. ?ART IJa# 

must be employed in dressing up these absurd doc- 
trines, so as to render them plausible ; I would 
ask, who are the persons that think them plausible ?^ 
Never did I hear of one man of virtue or learn- 
ing, who did not both detest and despise them^ 
They seem plausible, perhaps, to gamblers, high- 
waymen, and petit maitres ; but it will not be pre- 
tended, that those gentlemen have leisure, inclina- 
tion, or capacity, to reflect on what they read or 
hrear, so as to separate truth from falsehood. 

Among metaphysical writers, Mr. Hume holds 
a distinguished place. Every part of philosophy 
becomes metaphysic in his hands. His whole 
theory of the understanding is founded on the doc- 
trine of impressions and ideas, which, as he ex- 
plains it, is so contrary to fact, that nothing but 
the illusion of words could make it pass upon any 
reader. I have already given several instances of 
this author's metaphysical spirit. I shall give one 
more ; which I beg leave to consider at some 
length ; that I may have an opportunity of confut- 
ing a very dangerous error, and, at the same time, 
of displaying more minutely, than by this general 
description, the difference between metaphysical 
and philosophical investigation. 

Does any one imagine, that moral, intellectual, 
and corporeal virtues, — that justice, genius, and 
bodily strength, are virtues of the same kind; that 
they are contemplated with the samv sentiments, 
ancl known to be virtues by the same criterion ? 
Few, I presume, are of this opinion; but Mr. 
Hume has adopted it, and taken a great deal of 
pains to prove it. I shall demonstrate, that this 
very important error has arisen, either from inac- 
curate observation, or from his being imposed on 
by words not well understood, or rather from bath 
x:auses. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY 0N TRUTH. 279 

It is triie, that justice, great genius, and bodily 
strength, are all useful to the possessor and to so- 
ciety ; and all agreeable to, or (which in this au- 
thors style amounts to the same thing) approved 
by every one who considers or contemplates them. 
They therefore, at least the two first, completely 
answer to our author's definition of virtue^. And 
it would be easy to write a great book, to show the 
reasons why moral, intellectual, and corporeal abi- 
lities, yield pleasure to the beholder and posses- 
sor, and to trace out a number of analogies, real 
or verbal, su.bsisting between them. But this is 
nothing to the purpose : they may resemble in ten 
thousand respects, and yet differ as widely, as a 
beast or statue differs from a man. Let us trace^ 
the author's argument to its source. 

Virtue is known by a certain agreeable feeling 
or sentiment, arising from the consciousness of 
certain affections or qualities in ourselves, or from 
the view of therti in others. Granted. Justice^ 
humanity, generosity, excite approbation ; — a hand- 
'"^ome face excites approbation ; — great genius ex- 
^ tes approbation : the effect or sentiment produc- 
^A is the same in each instance: the object, or 
G^aise, must therefore, in each instance, be of the 
same kind. This is genuine metaphysic : but be- 
fore a man can be misled by it, he must either find, 
on consulting his experience, that the feeling ex- 
cited by the contemplation of these objects is the 
same in each instance ; in which case I would say, 
that his feelings are defective, or himself an inac- 
curate observer of nature : — or he must suppose, 

* It is the nature, and indeed the definition, oiT virtue, 
" that it is a quality of the mind agreeable to, or approved by, 
every one who considers or contemplates it.'* Harness Essays, 
vol. 2. p. 333. edit. 1767 Kots. 

Bodily qualities are indeed excluded by this definition, but 
admitted by our author in his subsequent reasonings. 

B b 



280 AN ESSAY O.N TRUTH. PART III. 

that the word approbation^ because written and 
pronounced the same way, does really mean the 
same thing in each of the three propositions above 
mentioned, in which case, I would say, that his 
judgment and ideas are confounded by the mere 
sound and shape of a word. I am conscious, that 
iny approbation of a fine face is different in kind 
from my approbation of great genius; and that 
both are extremely diflFerent from my approbation 
of justice, humanity, and generosity : if I call these 
three different kinds of approbation by the same 
general name, I use that name in three different 
significations. Therefore moral, intellectual, and 
corporeal virtues, are not of the same, but of dif- 
ferent kinds. 

I confess, says our author, that these three vir- 
tues are contemplated with three different kinds of 
approbation. But the same thing is true of differ- 
ent moral virtues : piety excites one kind of ap- 
probation, justice another, and compassion a third ; 
the virtues of Cato excite our esteem, those of 
Caesar our love : if, therefore, piety, justice, and 
compassion, be virtues of the same kind, notwitb^f 
standing that they excite different kinds of appro? 
bation, why should justice, genius, and beauty, b j 
accounted virtues of different kinds^ ?- — This is 
another metaphysical argument ; an attempt to de- 
termine by words what facts only can determine. 
I still insist on fact and experience. My senti- 
ments, in regard to these virtues, are so diversifi- 
ed, and in each variety so peculiar, that I know, 
and am assured that piety, justice, and humanitj?^, 
are distinct individual virtues of the same kind ; 
and that piety, genius, and beauty, are virtues of 
different kinds. Applied to each of the former 

• Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p. 258. Hume's Es- 
says, ubi supra. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUXH. 281 

qualities, the word virtue means the same thing; 
but beauty is virtue in one sense, genius in ano- 
ther, and piety in a. third. 

Weil, it the sentiments excited in you by the 
contemplation of these virtues, are so mucii diver- 
sified, and in each variety so peculiar, you must be 
able to explain in what respect your approbation 
of intellectual virtue differs from your approbation 
of moral ; which I presume you will find no easy 
task. — It is not so diilicult, Sir, as you seem to ap* 
prehend. When a man has acted generously, or 
justly, I praise him, and think him worthy of 
praise and reward, for having done his duty; 
when ungenerously or unjustly, I blame him ; and 
think him worthy of blame and punishment ; but a 
man deserves neither punishment nor blame for 
want of beauty or of understanding; nor reward 
nor praise for being handsome or ingenious.— -But 
why are we thought worthy of blame and punish- 
ment for being unjust, and not for being homely, 
or void of understanding ? The general consci- 
ence of mankind would reply. Because we have it 
in our power to be just, and ought to be so; but 
an idiot cannot help his want of understanding, 
nor an ugly man his want of beauty. This our 
author will not allow to be a satisfactory ansv/er ; 
because, says he, I have shown that free-will has 
no place with regard to the actions, no more than 
the qualities of men"^. What an immense meta- 
physical labyrinth should we have to run through 
if we w^ere to disentangle ourselves out of this ar- 
gument in the common course of logic! To short- 
en the controversy, I must beg leave to affirm, in 
mv turn, that our moral actions are in our own 
power, though beauty and genius are not ; and to 
appeal, for proof of this affirmation, to the second 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p. 260, 



28% AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

part of this Essay, or, rather, to the common sense 
of mankind. 

Again, " Moral distinctions," says Mr. Hume, 
*^ arise from the natural distinctions of pain and 
pleasure ; and when we receive those feelings from 
the general considerations of any quality or cha- 
racter, we denominate it virtuous or vitious. Now 
I believe no one will assert, that a quality can ne- 
ver produce pleasure or pain to the person who 
considers it, unless it be perfectly voluntary in the 
person w^ho possesses it^." — More^ metaphysic ! 
and a sophism too — 3, petitio principn I Here our 
author endeavours to confound intellectual with 
moral virtue, by an argument which supposeth his 
own theory of virtue to be true ; of which theory 
this confusion of the virtues is a necessarj^ conse- 
quence. The reader must see, that this argument, 
if it prove any thing at all, might be made to prove 
that the smell or beauty of a rose, the taste of an 
apple, the hardness of steel, and the glittering of a 
diamond, as well as bodily strength and great ge- 
nius, are all virtues of the same kind with justice, 
generosity, and gratitude. — Still we wander from 
the point. How often must it be repeated, that 
this matter is to be determined, not by metaphysi- 
cal arguments founded on ambiguous words, but 
by facts and experience • 

^^ Have I not appealed to facts ?" he will say. 
^' Are not ail the qualities that constitute the great 
man, constancy, fortitude, magnanimity, as invol- 
vmtary and necessar)^, as the qualities of the judg* 
ment and imagination ?f" The term great man is 
so very equivocal, that I will have nothing to do 
with it. The vilest scoundrel on earth, if possess- 
ed of a title, immediately commences great man, 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p. 260. 
t Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p. 259» 



CHAP. M. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 283 

when he has with impunity perpetrated any extra- 
ordinary act of wickedness ; murthered fifty thou- 
sand men: robbed all the houses of half a dozen 
provinces ; or dexterously plundered his own coun- 
try, to defray the expense of a ruinous war, contri- 
ved on purpose to satiate his avarice, or divert the 
public attention from his blunders and villanies. 
I speak of the qualities that constitute the good 
77ian^ that is, of moral qualities ; and these, I af- 
firm, to be within every man's reach, though geni- 
us and beauty are not. 

^^ But are not men afraid of passing for good- 
natured, lest that should be taken for want of un- 
derstanding ? — and do they not often boast of 
more debauches than they have been really engaged 
in, to give themselves airs of fire and spirit .^^'^ 
Yes, fools do the first, to recommend themselves 
to fools ; and profligates the last, to recommend 
themselves to profligates : but he is little acquainted 
with the human heart, who does not perceive, that 
such sentiments are affected, and contrary to the 
way of thinking that is most natural to mankind. 

"But are you not as jealous of your character, 
with regard to sense and knowledge, as to honour 
and courage?!" This question ought to be ad- 
dressed to those in whom courage is a virtue, and 
the want of it a vice: and I am certain, there is 
not in his Majesty's service one officer or private 
mSn, who would not wish to be thought rather a 
valiant soldier, though of no deep reach, than a 
very clever fellow, with the addition of an infamous 
covv^ard. — The term honour is of dubious import. 
According to the notions of these times, a man 
may blaspheme God, sell his country, murder his 
i'riend, pick the pocket of his fellow-sharper, and 

* Treatise of Human Nature, vol. 3. p. 257. 

jlbid. 

Bb2 



284 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

employ his whole life in seducing others to vice 
and perdition, and yet be accounted a man of hon- 
our; provided he be accustomed to speak certain 
words, wear certain clothes, and haunt certain 
company. If this be the honour alluded to by the 
author, an honest man mav, for a verv slender 
consideration, renounce all pretensions to it. But 
if he allude (as I rather suppose) to those qualities 
of the heart and understanding which entitle one to 
general esteem and confidence, Mr. Hume knows, 
that this kind of honour is dearer to a man than 
life. 

''Well, then, temperance is a virtue in every 
station; yet would you not choose to be convicted 
of drunkenness rather than of ignorance?^" — I have 
heard of a witty parson, who, having been dismiss- 
ed for irregularities, used afterwards, in conver- 
sation, to say, that he thanked God he was not 
cashiered for ignorance and insufficiency, but only 
for vice and immorality. According to our au- 
thor's doctrine, this speech was neither absurd nor 
profane : but I am sure the generality of mankind 
would be of a different opinion. To be ignorant 
of what we ought to know, is to be deficient in 
moral virtue; to profess to know what we are 
ignorant of, is falsehood, a breach of moral 
virtue : whether these vices be more or less atro- 
cious than intempei-ance, must be determined 
by the circumstances of particular cases. To be 
ignorant of what we could not know, of what we 
do not profess to know, and of w hat it is not our 
duty to know, is no vice at all: and a man must 
have made some progress in debauchery, before 
he can say, from serious conviction, I would ra- 
ther be chargeable with intemperance, than with 
igTlorance of this kind. — These, and many of our 
aufnor's mistakes, must be imputed to want of 

? Treatise of Humsin Nature, vol. 3. p. 257. 



CHAP, II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 285 

knowledge of human nature : which I suppose is 
owing to his having confined his observation chiefly 
to the outside of what is called fashionable life, 
where the sentiments publicly avowed are often 
different from what is inwardly felt, and extremely 
different from the truth and simplicity of nature. 

It appears, then, that our author's reasoning on 
the present subject, is not philosophical, but what 
I call metaphysical'^ y being founded, not on fact, 
but on theory, and supported by ambiguous words 
and inaccurate experience. 

The judgment of the wiser ancients in matters 
of morality, is doubtless of very great weight, but, 
in opposition to our own experience, can never pre- 
ponderate : because this is our ultimate standard of 
truth. Mr. Hume endeavours to confirm his the- 
or}^ of virtue by authorities from the ancients, par- 
ticularly the Stoics and Peripatetics. Though he 
had accomplished this, we might have appealed 
from their opinion, as well as from his, to our 
own feelings. But he fails in this, as in the other 
parts of his proof. 

It is true, the Peripatetics and Stoics made Pru- 
dence the first (not the most important) of the car- 
dinal virtues ; because they conceived it necessary 
to enable a man to act his part aright in life, and 
because they thought it their duty to take every 
opportunity of improving their nature ; but they 
never said, that an incurable defect of understand- 
ing is a vice, or that it is as much our duty to be 
learned and ingenious, as to be honest and grateful. 
" All the praise of virtue consists in action," 
says Cicerof, in the name of the Stoics, when 

* I do not contend, that this use of the word metaphysical is 

trictly proper : I mean nothing more, than to give the reader 

a notion of this particular mode of false reasoning : and, by 

satisfying him that it is not philosophical, to guard him against 

its influence. 

t De OfEciis, lib. I. cap. 6. 



286 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* PART HI. 

treating of this virtue of prudence. And, when 
explaining the comparative merit of the several 
classes of moral duty, he declares, that "All 
knowledge which is not followed by action, is 
unprofitable and imperfect, like a beginning with- 
out an end, or a foundation without a superstruc- 
ture ; and that the acquisition of the most sub- 
lime and most important science ought to be, and 
will by every good man be relinquished, when it 
interferes with the duties we owe our country, our 
parents, and society^." Wisdom, indeed, he al- 
lows to be the first and most excellent of the vir- 
tues : but it is well known, that the Stoics made a 
distinction between Prudence and Wisdom. By 
prudence they meant that virtue which regulates 
our desires and aversions and fixes them on proper 
objects. Wisdom was another name for mental 
perfection: it comprehended all the virtues, the 
religious as well as the social and prudential ; and 
was equally incompatible with vice and with errorf. 
The wise man, the standard of Stoical excellence, 
was, by their own acknowledgement, an ideal cha- 
racter ; the purest virtue attainable in this life be- 
ing necessarily tainted with imperfection. Hence 
some have endeavoured to turn their notions of 
wisdom into ridicule ; but I think, without reason. 
For is there any thing absurd or ridiculous in an 
artist working after a model of such perfection as 
he can never hope to equal? In the judgment of 
Aristotle and Bacon, the true poet forms his imi- 
tations of nature after a model of id^al perfection, 
which perhaps hath no existence but in his own 
mind:]:. And are not Christians commanded to 
imitate the Deity himself, tnat great original and 

* De Officiis, lib. 1. cap. 43, 44. 
fid. ib. 

\ Aristot. Poetica. Bax:on, De auigmentis scicntiariumj 

lib. 2. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 287 

Standard of perfection, between whom and the 
most excellent of his creatures an infinite distance 
must remain for ever^ ? 

"The ancient moralists," says Mr. Hume, "made 
no material distinction among the different species 
of mental endowments and defects f." To every 
person who has read them, the contrary is well 
known. I might here fill many a page with 
quotations, but a few will suffice : " Man's virtue 
and vice," says Marcus Aurelius, " consists not in 
those affections in which we are passive, but in 
action. To a stone thrown upward, it is no evil to 
fall, nor good to have mounted:}:."" And in ano- 
ther place, " The vain-glorious man place th his 
good in the action of another ; the sensual, in his 
own passive feelings ; the wise man, in his own 
action§." "The contemplative life^" says Plu- 
tarch, "when it fails to produce the active, is un- 
profitable"^^." ** To acquire knowledge," says 
Lucian, " is of no use, if we do not also frame 
our lives according to something better ff." It is 
remarkable that the Greek tragedians (I know not 
by what authority, for Homer's idea is verj^ differ- 
ent) represent Ulysses as a character more distia- 

* Matth. V. 48: 
^t Hume's Essays, vol. 2. p. 387, 388. 

^ Ov^E V) ocpsry) k, ytccKtcc ocvra ly -Tniazi txXXa, svcpysiac* To? 
avapptf^QcvTt XtBof ovoev aoiKov ro Kxrevs^Oiovixif ovgs (xy(x9ov to 
scvtvE^Orivact^ 

JL.ib ix. c. 17. 
§ O fAsv ^ikooo^os ocKKorpiocv EnpyEiav i^iov ocyx^ov vnoXa.yi.-' 

Lib. 6. c. 51. 

" ^f ^BiopyiTiKOs Qios ra ^pa>)tli}cii ^itxixxpracvujvy (xyu^psXvis^ 

Plutarch, de Educatione. 
WOv^zv o(pzXos 10V Ezji<roca-^cci roc iAuQ.7)[j.xrXi e/ fAVi ris <xpx }y 

Toy ^iov pv9(Ai^Et Trpos ro ^£kriov» 

Lucian. Coiiviv, 



288 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

guished for political prudence or cunning, than for 
strict moral virtue ; and often place him in such 
attitudes as make him appear odious on this very, 
account^. And Cicero in his Treatise of moral 
duties, often declares, that cunning, when it vio- 
lates the rules of justice, is criminal and detestable. 
Does Virgil consign cripples and idiots, as well as 
tyrants, to Tartarus? does he say, that a great 
memory and handsome face, as well as a pure 
heart, were the passports to Elysium? No: Vir- 
gil was too good a man to injure the cause of virtue, 

* See particularly Sophocles. Philoct. vers. 100 and vers. 
1260, I beg leave to quote a few very remarkable lines. Neop- 
tolemus having, by the advice of Ulysses, fraudulently got 
possession of the arrows of Philoctetes, repents of what he 
had done, and is going to restore them To deter him from 
his purpose, Ulysses threatens him with the resentment of the 
Vfhoie Grecian army. 

Neop^ A'AX £i otyctxta.^ rcov <70(pajv y.fiia(ju ro^i* 
JJlys. Kat 'uj'jjs oikoliov, a, «y* sXiatbfj f^ov^xts Efji,xis 

TlocKiv f/^sOsivaci racvrx ; Neop> T>jv afJLXfnoiv 

A^tcry(j>ay ocf^xpruDLy ixvocKctQuv 'ZJtipizaoiJLixu 
Ulys, ^rpxro> ^' A%a<a;v a (poQvi 7rp<xa-cruy ra^s, 
Neop. Hvv T&/ oiicixiu roy aoy ov rap^M (po^ov^ 

Vers. 12r9. 

Neop* Wise as thou art, Ulysses, 

Thou talkest most idly. Uiys. Wisdom is not thine, 

Either in word or deed. Keop, Know, to be just 

Is better far than to be wise. Ulys. But where. 

Where is the justice, thus unauthorised, 

To give a treasure back thou owest to me. 

And to my counsels ? Neop. I have done a wrong, 

And^I will try to make atonement for it. 

Ulys. Dost thou not fear the power of Greece ? Neop. I fear 

Nor Greece, nor thee, when I am doing right, 

Fratiklin. 
Throughout the whole play, the fire and generosity of the 
young hero (so well becoming the son of Achilles) is finely 
opposed to the caution and craft of the polititian, and forms 
one of the most striking contrasts that can well be imagined* 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTK. 289 

and too wise to shock common sense by so prepos- 
terous a distribution of reward and punishment. 
The impious, the unnatural, the fraudulent, the 
avaricious : adulterers, incestuous persons, traitors, 
corrupt judges, venal statesmen, tyrants, and tht 
minions of tyrants, are those whom he dooms to 
eternal misery ; and he peoples Elysium with the 
shades of the pure and the pious, of heroes who 
have died in defence of their country, of ingenious 
men who have employed their talents in recom- 
mending piety and virtue, and of all who by acts 
of beneficence have merited the love and gratitude 
of their fellow creatures^. 

* Virgil, ^neid vi. 547 — 665. As the moral sentiments 
of nations may often be learned from their fables and tradi- 
tions, as well as from their history and philosophy, it will not 
perhaps be deemed foreign from our design, to give the fol- 
lowing brief abstract of this poet's sublime theory of future re- 
wards and punishments ; the outlines of which, he is known 
to have taken from the Pythagoreans, and Platonists, who 
probably were indebted for them to- some ancient tradition. 

The shades below are divided by Virgil into three districts, 
or provinces. On this side Styx, the souls of those whose bo- 
dies have not been honoured with the rites of sepulture, wan- 
der about in a melancholy condition for a hundred years, be- 
fore they are permitted to pass the river. When this period 
expires, or when their bodies are buried, they are ferried 
over, and appear before Minos and the other judges, who 
allot them such a mansion as their lives on earth are found to 
have deserved. They, who have been of little, or no use to 
mankind, or who have not been guilty of any very attrocious 
crimes ; or whose crimes, though atrocious, were the effects 
rather of an unhappy destiny, than of wilful depravation, are 
disposed of in different parts of the regions of mourning, (lugen- 
tes campi), where they undergo a variety of purifying pains. 
From thence, when thoroughly refined from all the remains of 
vice, they pass into Elysiurri, where they live a thousand years 
in a state of happine^ ; and then, after taking a draught of 
the waters of oblivion, are sent back to earth to animate new 
bodies. — Those who have been guilty of great crimes, as im- 
piety, want of natural affection, adultery, incest, breach of 
trust, subverting the liberties of their country, &c. are deliv- 
ered by the judge Rhadamanthus to Tisiphone and the other 



290 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

The Peripatetics held prudence to be an active 
principle, diffused through the whole of moral vir- 
tue^. '^ None but a good man," says Aristotle, 
" can be prudent ;'*'and a little after, " It is notpos- 

furies, who shut them up in an immense dungeon of darkness 
and fire, called Tartarus^ where their torments are unspeak- 
able and eternal. — The souls of good men are re-united, either 
with th« Deity himself, or with that universal spirit which he 
created in the beginning, and which animates the world; and 
their shades, ghosts, or zWo/a, enjoy for ever the repose and 
pleasures of Elysium. These shades might be seen, though not 
touched; they resembled the bodies with which they had for« 
merly been invested ; and retained a consciousness of their 
identity, and a remembrance of their past life, with almost the 
same affections and character that had distinguished them on 
earth. 

On this system, Virgil has founded a series of the sublimest 
descriptions that are to be met with in poetry. Milton alone 
has equalled them in the first and second books of Paradise 
Lost. Homer^s Necyoma?it€iaf in the eleventh of the Odyssey, 
has the merit of being original ; but Virgil's imitation is con- 
fessedly far superior. The dream of Henry, in the seventh 
canto of the Henriade, notwithstanding the advantages that 
the author might have drawn from the Christian theology, is 
but a trifle, compared with the magnificent and stupendous 
scenery exhibited in the sixth book of the JEne'id. 

This theory of future rewards and punishments, however 
imperfect, is consonant enough with the hopes and fears of 
men, and their naiural notions of virtue and vice ^ to render 
the poet's narrative alarming and interesting in a very high 
degree. But were an author to adopt Mr. Hume's theory of 
virtue and the soul, and endeavour to set it off in a poetical 
description, all the powers of human genius could not save 
it from being ridiculous. A metaphysician may "blunder" 
for a long time, ** round about a meaning/' without giving 
any violent shock to an inattentive reader : but a poet who 
clothes his thoughts with imagery, and illustrates them by 
examples, must come to the point at once ; and, if he means 
to please, and not disgust his readers, to move their admira- 
tion, and not their contempt, must be careful not to contra- 
dict their natural notions, especially in matters of such deep 
and universal concern as morality and religion. 

* A'vJtyx>? T»?y (ppomav e^tv Btvati^^TupXKrucvjv* 

Ethic, ad Nicom. vi. 5. 



CMAP. !!• AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 291 

sible for a man to be properly good without pru- 
dence, nor prudent without moral virtue^." Will 
it yet be said, that the ancient moralists made no 
material distinction between moral and intellectual 
virtues f Is it not evident, that though they con- 
sidered both as necessary to the formation of a per- 
fect character, and sometimes discoursed of both 
in the same treatise or system, yet they deemed 
the latter valuable only as means to qualify us for 
the former, and insignificant, or even odious, when 
they failed to answer this end ? 

" We may," says Mr. Hume, " by perusing the 
titles of the chapters in Aristotle's Ethics, be con- 
vinced, that he ranks courage, temperance, magni- 
ficence, magnanimity, modesty, prudence, and a 
manlij freedom among the virtues, as well as jus- 
tice and friendship!." True ; but if our learned 
metaphysician had extended his researches a iittle 
beyond the titles of those chapters, he would have 
found, that, in Aristotle's judgment, ^' Moral virtue 
is a voluntary disposition or habit ; and that mo^ 
ral approbation or disapprobation are excited by 
those actions and affections only which are in our 
own power ^ that is, of which the first motion, 
arises in ourselves, and pi^oceed* from no extrinsic 
cause:!:." 

^ASyvaToy (fpoy/^ov g/y^f iiyi ovroc ctyx^ov,--^Ov^* otov acyac^ii 

Id. vi. 13. 
See the elegant paraphrase of Andronicus the Rhodian, upoii 
these passages. 

i' Hume's Essays, vol. 2. p. 388. — The term ma?uy freedom 
does not express the meaning of the Greek «Aft;Sfp A?. Mr. 
Hume was perhaps misled by the etymolog}^ : but he ought 
to have known, that by this word the philosopher denotes 

that Virtue whicb couitists in the moderate use of Huealth. -zj^p 

yipYiixotra, f/.ccrorios» See Ethic, ad Nicom. lib. 4. cap. 1, 2. 

:f Ethic, ad Nicom. iii. 1. — ii. 6. Mag. Mor. i. 15. Andro* 
jiicus Rhodius, p. 89, 90, 188. edit. Caatab. 1679. Stephan'us, 
in voce TrpouifirtKos^ 

c e 



SQ-^ AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART HI. 

This is true philosophy : it is accurate, perspicu- 
ous, and just, and very properly determines the de- 
gree of merit of our intellectual and constitutional 
virtues. A man makes proficiency in knowledge : 
if in this he has acted from a desire to improve his 
nature, and qualify himself for moral virtue, that 
desire, and the action consequent upon it, are vir- 
tuous, laudable, and of good desert. Is a man pos- 
sessed of great genius ^. — this invests him with dig- 
nity and distinction, and qualifies him for noble un- 
dertakings : but this of itself is no moral virtue ; 
because it is not a disposition resulting from a 
spontaneous effort. Is his constitution naturally 
disposed to virtue ? he still has it in his power to 
be vitious, and therefore his virtue is trulv merito- 
rious ; though not so highly as that of another man, 
who, in spite of outrageous appetites, and tempting 
circumstances, hath attained an equal degree of mo- 
ral improvement. A man constitutionally brave, ge- 
nerous, or grateful, commands our admiration more 
than another, who struggles to overcome the natu- 
ral baseness of his temper. The former is a sublimer 
object, and may be of greater service to society ; 
and as his virtue is secured by constitution as well 
as by inclination, we repose in it without fear of 
being disappointed. Yet perhaps the latter, if his 
merit were equally conspicvious, would be found 
equally worthy of our moral approbation. Indeed, 
if his virtue be so irresolute as to leave him waver- 
ing between good and evil, he is not entitled to 
praise : such irresolution is criminal, because he 
may, and ought to correct it ; we cannot, and we 
ought not to trust him, till we see a strong prepos- 
session established in favour of virtue. — However, 
let us love virtue wherever we find it : whether 
the immediate gift of heaven, or the effect of hu- 
man industry co-operating with divine influence, 
it always deserves our esteem and veneration. 



GHAP, II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 2d3 

The reader may now form an estimate of that 
author's attention, who says, that ^^-the ancient mo- 
ralists made no material distinction among the dif- 
ferent species of mental endowments and defects.'^ 
If any one is disposed to think, that I have made 
out my point rather by inference than by direct 
proof, I submit to his consideration the follchving 
passages, which are too plain to need a commen- 
tarv. 

Having proposed a general distribution of our 
mental powers, (which seems to amount to this^ 
that some of them fit us for knowledge, and others 
for action) Aristotle proceeds in this manner. 
" According to this distribution, virtue is also 
divided into intellectual and moral. Of the former 
kind are wisdom, intelligence, and prudence; of 
the latter, temperance and frugal liberality. When 
v/e speak of morals, we do not say, that a man is 
wise or intelligent, but that he is gentle or tempe- 
rate. Yet we praise a wise man in respect of his 
dispositions [or habits] : for laudable disposition's 
are what we call virtues^." 

" The virtues of the soul," says Cicero, ^' and 
of its principal part the understanding, are various, 
but may be reduced to two kinds. The first are 
those which nature has implanted, and which are 
called not voluntary. The second kind are more 
properly called virtues^ because they depend on 
the will ; and these, as objects of approbation, are 
transcendently superior. Of the former kind are 
docility, memory, and ail the virtues distinguished 

Atopi(^ertxi ^s koci vt acpsrio KOiroc rviv ^iac<popocv rjivrm* Xs- 

ytoci cvnariVyitoct (ppovnaiVy ^KXvoioTiycocs* sXBv^Bpioryiroc ^f x.ixi acoOpoa- 
fv>?v, i^Oiycocs* ^^syovres yacp 'Cjspi ra viQovsy a Xsyofxsv on croOosy vi 
crv)/STOij aAX on '^ptx.osy vi croj<Ppouv. ^zjocivayLBv o£ 7ca.t rov (7o(pov x.a,lx 

Ethic, ad Nicom, lib, 1. sub, Jin, 



294 AN ESSAY 0N THUTH. PART III* 

by the general name of genius, or capacity: per- 
sons ppssessed of them are called ingenious. The 
latter class comprehends the great and genuine vir- 
tueSj which we denominate voluntary^ as prudence, 
temperance, fortitude, justice, and others of the 
same kind'^." 

The word virtue has indeed great latitude of 
signification. It denotes any quality of a thing 
tending to the happiness of a percipient being ; it 
denotes that quality, or perfection of qualities, by 
which a thing is fitted to answer its end ; sometimes 
it denotes power or agency in general ; and some- 
times any habit which improves the faculties of the 
human mind. In the first three senses we ascribe 
virtue to the soul, and to the body, to brutes, and 
to inanimate things ; in the last, to our intellectual 
as well as moral nature. And no doubt instances 
may be found of ambiguity and want of precision^ 
even in the best moralists, from an improper use of 
this word. Yet I believe this attempt of Mr. 
Hume's is the first that has been made to prove, 
that among these very different sorts of virtue 
there is little or no difference. Our author seems 
indeed to have a singular aversion to that kind of 
curiosity, which, not satisfied with knowing the 
names, is industrious to discover the natures of 

• Animi autem, et ejus animi partis quae princeps est, qiise- 
que mens nominatur, plures sunt virtutes, sed duo prima 
genera : unum earum quee ingenerantur suapte natura, appel- 
lanturque non VLpluntariae: alterum autem earum, quae in vo- 
luntate, positse, magis proprie eo nomine appellari sclent; 
quarum est excellens in animorum laude praestantia. Prions 
generis est docilitas, memoria ; qualia fere omnia appellantur 
imo ingenii nonjiine ; easque virtutes qui habent ingeniosi vo- 
cantur. Alterum autem genus est magnarum verarmnque vir' 
tutum, quas appellamus voluntarias, ut prudentiam, temperan- 

tiam, fortitudinem, jus'itiam, et reliquas ejusdem generis. 

Virtutes voluntariae proprie virtutes appellantur, multumque 
excellunt, Sec. 

Cicero De Finibus, lib. 5. caf. 13. ex editione J)avisii. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 295 

/ 

things. When he finds two or three different things 
called by the sanne name, he will rather write fifty- 
pages of metaphysic to prove that they are the same, 
than give himself the trouble to examine them so 
as to see what they really are=^. Is it not strange, 
that a man of science should ever have taken it ia 
his head, that the characteristic of a genus is a 
sufficient description of a species? He might as 
well have supposed, that because perception and 
self-motion belong to animal life in general, it is 
therefore a sufficient definition of man, to call him- 
a self-moving and percipient creature : from which 
profound principle it clearly follows, that man is a 
beast, and that a beast is a man. 

By such reasoning as Mr. Hume has used on the 
present occasion, it would be easy to prove any 
doctrine. The method is this : — and I hope those 
who may hereafter choose to astonish the world with 
a system of metaphysical paradoxes, will do me the 
honour and the justice to acknowledge, that I was 
the first who unfolded the whole art and mystery of 
that branch of manufacture within the compass of 
one short recipe : — Take a word (an abstract term 
is the most convenient) which admits of more than 
one signification ; and by the help of a predicate and 
copula, form a proposition, suitable to your system, 
or to your humour, oi* to any other thing yon 
please, except truth. When laying down your 
premises, you are to use the name of the quality 
or subject, in one sense; and, when inferring your 
conclusion, in another. You are then to urge a 
few equivocal facts, very slightly examined, (the 
more slightly the better), as a further proof of the 
said conclusion; and to shut up all with citing 
some ancient authorities, either real or fictitious, 

* See another remarkable instance^ Part 2. chap* 2.. sect> lo 
of this Essay. 

c c 2 



296 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH; PART tU. 

as may best suit your purpose. A few occasional 
strictures on religion as an unphilosophical thing, 
and a sneer at the Whole Duty of Marv^^ or any 
other good book, will give your Dissertation what 
many are pleased to call a liberal turn; and will go 
near to convince the world, that you are a can- 
did philosopher, a manly free-thinker, and a very 
fine writer. 

It is to no purpose that our author calls this a 
verbal dispute, and sometimes condescends to soi- 
ten matters by an almost^ or some such evasive 
word. His doctrine obviously tends to confound 
all our ideas of virtue and duty, and to make us 
consider ourselves as mere machines, acted upon 
by external and irresistible impulse, and not more 
accountable for moral blemishes, than for ignorance, 
want of understanding, poverty, deformity, and 
disease. If the reader think as seriously of the 
controversy as I do, he will pardon the length of 
this digression. 

I hope it now appears, that there is a kind of 
metaphysic, which, whatever respectable names it 
may have assumed, deserves contempt or censure- 
from every lover of truth. If it be detrimental to 
science, it is equally so to the affairs of life. When- 
ever one enters on business, the metaphysical 
spirit must be laid aside, otherwise it will render 
him ridiculous, perhaps detestable. Sure it will 
not be said, that any portion of this spirit is neces- 
sary to form a man for stations of high importance. 
For these, a turn to metaphysic would be as effec- 
tual a disqualification as want of understanding. 
The metaphysician is cold, wavering, distrustful, 
and perpetually ruminates on words, distinctions, 
arguments and systems. He attends to the events 
of life with a view chiefly to the system that hap- 

* See Hume^s Essays, vol. 2. p. S88. edit. 1767. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY OK TRUTH. 29 



yf 



pens for the time to predominate in his imagination, 
and to which he is anxious to reconcile every ap- - 
pearance. His observation is therefore partial and 
inaccurate, because, he contemplates nature through 
the medium of his favourite theory, which is al- 
ways false; so that experience, which enlarges, 
ascertains, and methodizes, the knowledge of other 
men, serves only to heighten the natural darkness 
and confusion of his. His literary studies are con- 
ducted with the same spirit, and produce the same 

effects Whereas, to the administration of great 

affairs, truth and steadiness of principle, constancy 
of mind, intuitive sagacity, extreme quickness in 
apprehending the present and anticipating the fu- 
ture, are indispensably necessary. Whatever tends 
to weaken and unsettle the mind, to cramp the 
imagination, to fix the attention on minute and 
trifling objects, and withdraw it from those enlarg- 
ed prospects of nature and mankind, in which true 
genius loves to expatiate ; whatever has this tenden- 
cy, and surely metaphysic has it, is the bane of % 
genius, and of every thing that is great in human 
nature. 

In the lower walks of life, our theorist will be 
oftener the object of ridicule than of detestation. 
Yet even here, the man is to be pitied, who, in 
matters of moment, happens to be connected with 
a staunch metaphysician. Doubts, disputes, and 
conjectures, will be the plague of his life. If his 
associate form a system of action or inaction, of 
doubt or confidence, he will stick by it, however 
absurd, as long as he has one verbal argument un* 
answered to urge in defence of it. In accounting 
for the conduct of others, he will reject obvious 
causes, and set himself to explore such as are more 
remote and refined. Making no proper allowance 
for the endless variety of human character, he will 
suppose all men influenced, like himself, by system 



298 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

and verbal argument: certain causes, in his judg- 
ment, must of necessity produce certain effects ; for 
he has twenty reasons ready to oflFer, by which it 
is demonstrable, that they cannot fail : and it is 
well , if experience, at last convince him, that 
there was a small verbal ambiguity in his princi- 
ples, and that his vieWs of mankind were not quite 
so extensive as they ought to have been* In a 
word, unless he be very good-natured, and of a 
passive disposition, his refinements will do more 
harm than even the stiff stupidity of an idiot. If 
inclined to fraud, or any sort of vice, he will never 
be at a loss for an evasion, which, if it should not 
satisfy his associate, will perplex and plague him 
most effectually. I need not enlarge ; the reader 
may conceive the rest. To aid his fancy, he will 
find some traits of this character, in one of its most 
amusing and least disagreeable forms, delineated 
with a masterly pencil in the person of Walter 
Shandy, Esquire. 

It is astonishing to consider, how little mankind 
value the good within their reach, and how ardently 
they pursue what nature has placed beyond it ; how 
blindly they over-rate what they have no experi- 
ence of, and how fondly they admire what they do 
not understand. This verbal metaphysic has been 
dignified with the name of science^ and verbal me- 
taphysicians have been reputed philosophers, and 
men of genius. Doubtless a man of genius may, by 
the fashion of the times, be seduced into these stu- 
dies : but that particular cast of mind which fits a 
man for them, and recommends them to his choice, 
is not genius, but a minute and feeble understand- 
ing ; capable indeed of being made, by long prac- 
tice expert in the management of words ; but 
which never did, and never will, qualify any man 
for the discovery or illustration of sentiment.. Fof 



CHAP. II- AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 

what is genius ? What, but sound judgment, sensi- 
bility of heart, and a talent for accurate and exten- 
sive observation? And will sound judgment ^e- 
pare a man for being imposed on by words ? will 
sensibility of heart render him insensible to his 
own feelings and inattentive to those of other men? 
will a talent for accurate and extensive observation, 
make him ignorant of the real phenomena of na- 
ture, and consequently, incapable of detecting what 
is false or equivocal in the representation of facts ? 
And yet, when facts are fairly and fully repre- 
sented ; when human sentiments are strongly felt, 
and perspicuously described ; and when the mean- 
ing of words is ascertained, and the same word has 
always the same idea annexed to it, — —there is^an 
end of metaphysic. 

A body is neither vigorous nor beautiful, in 
which the size of some members is above, and that 
of others below their due proportion : every part 
must have its proper size and strength, otherwise 
the result of the whole will be deformity and weak- 
ness. Neither is real genius consistent with a dis- 
proportionate strength of the reasoning powers 
above those of taste and imagination. Those minds 
in whom all the faculties are united in their due 
proportion, are far superior to the puerilities of 
metaphysical scepticism. They trust to their own 
feelings, which are strong and decisive, and leave 
no room for hesitation or doubts about their au- 
thenticity. They see through moral subjects at one 
glance ; and what they say, carries both the heart 
and the understanding along with it. When one 
has long drudged in the dull and unprofitable pages 
of metaphysic, how pleasing the transition to a 
a moral writer of true genius ! Would you know 
what that genius is, and where it may be found ? 
Go to Shakespeare, to Bacon, to Johnson, to Mon* 



300 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

tesquieu, to Rousseau^; and when you have studied 
them, return, If ycu can, to Hume, and Hobbes, and 
Wl t v;branche, and Leibnitz, and Spinoza. If, while 
you learned wi^^dom from the former, your heart ex- 

*As several persons, highly respectable both for their 
talents and principles, have desired to know my reasons for 
joining Rousseau's name to those of Bacon, Shakespeare, 
Johnson, and Montesquieu, i beg leave to take this oppor- 
tunity of explaining my sentiments in regard to that celebrated 
author. 

It is because 1 consider Rousseau as a moral nvrlter of true 
genius, that I mention his name in this place. Sensibility of 
heart ; a talent for extensive and accurate observation ; live- 
liness and ardour of fancy ; and a style copious, nervous, and 
elegant, beyond that of any other French writer, — are his dis- 
tinguishing characteristics. In argument he is not always 
equally successful, for he often mistakes declamation for 
proof, and hypothesis for fact; but his eloquence, when ad- 
dressed to the heart, over-powers with force irresistible. A 
greater number of impfcrtant fatts relating to the human mind 
are recorded in his works, than in all the books of ail the scep- 
tical philosophers ancient and modern. * And he appears in 
general to be a friend to virtue, to mankind, to natural reli- 
gion, and sometimes to Christianity. 

Yet none even of his best works are free from absurdity. 
His reasoning, on the effects of the sciences, and on the origin 
and progress of human society, are diftiise, inaccurate, and 
often weak ; much perverted by theories of his own, as well 
as by too implicit an admittance of the vague assertions of 
travellers, and of the systems and doctrines of some favour- 
ite French Philosophers: and he seems, in these, and fre- 
quently too in his other writings, to consider animal pleasure 
and bodily accomplishments as the happiness and perfection of 
man. His plan of education, though admirable in many parts, 
is in some injudicious and dangerous, and impracticable as a 
whole. The character of Julia's Lover is drawn with a mas- 
terly hand indeed, and well conducted throughout ; but the- 
lady has two characters, and those incompatible ;-— the Wife 
of Wolmar is quite a different person from the mistress of St. 
Preux. Wolmar himself is an impossible character ; destitute 
of principle, yet of rigid virtue ; destitute of feeling, yet capa- 
ble of tenderness and attachment; delicate in his notions of 
honour, yet not ashamed to marry a woman whom he knew 
to be, to all intents and purposes, devoted to another. 

Some of this author's remarks on the spirit of Christianity, 
and on the character of its Divine Founder, are not only ex- 



€HAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. .301 

vilted within you, and rejoiced to contemplate the 
sublime and successiui efforts of human intellect ; • 
perhaps it may now be of use, as a lesson of hu- 
mility, to have recourse to the latter, and, for awhile 

cellcnt, but transcendently so, and I believe no Christian ever 
read them without feeling his heart warmed, and his faith 
coniirmed. But what he says — of the absurdities which he 
fancies to be contained in the sacred history, — of the impro- 
priety of the evidence of miracles,— -of the analogy between 
those of Jesus Christ and the tricks of jugglers, — of the insig- 
nificancy and impertinence of prayer, — of the sufficiency of 
human reason for discovering a complete and comfortable 
scheme of natural religion. — of the discouraging nature of the 
terms of salvation oifered in the Gospel, — of the measure of 
Evidence that ought to accompany divine revelation (which, 
as he states it, would be incompatible witK man's free agency 
and moral probation) — what he says of these, and of several 
other theological points of great importance, betrays a degree 
of ignorance and prejudice, of which, as a philosopher, as a 
scholar, and as a" man, he should have been utterly ashamed. 
He appears to be distressed with his doubts ; and yet, with- 
out having ever examined whether they be well or ill-founded, 
scruples not to exert all his eloquence on purpose to infuse 
them into others; a conduct, which I must ever condemn as 
illiberal, unjust, and cruel. Had Rousseau studied the scrip- 
ture, and t^ie writings of rational divines, with as much care 
as he seems to have employed in reading the books, and listen- 
ing to the conversation of French infidels, and in attending to 
the unchristian practices and doctrines warranted by some eccle- 
siastical establishments; I may venture to assure him, that 
his mind would have been much more at ease, his works much 
more valuable, and his n>emory much dearer to all good men. 
Rousseau is, in my opinion, a great philosophical genius, but 
wild, irregular, and often self-contradictory; disposed, from 
the fashion of the times, and from his desire of being reputed 
a bold speaker and freethinker, to adopt the doctrines of in- 
fidelity; but of a heart too tender, and an imagination to9 
lively, to permit him to become a thorough-paced infidel. 
Had he lived in an age less addicted to hypothesis, he might 
have distinguished himself as a moral philosopher of the first 
rank. What pity, that a proper sense of his superiority to 
his contemporaries upon the continent could not preserve him 
from the contagion of their example ! For, though now it is 
the fashion for every French declaimer to talk of Bacon and 
Newto-n, I question, whether in any age since the days of 



302 AN ESSAY ON TRlTTH. PART 1U» 

to behold the picture of a soul wandering from 
thought to thought, without knowing where to fix; 
and from a total want of feeling, or a total igno- 
rance of what it feels, mistaking names for things, 
verbal distinctions and analogies for real difference 
and similitude, and the obscure insinuations of a 
bewildered understanding, puzzled with words, 
and perverted with theory, for the sentiments of 
nature, and the dictates of reason. A metaphy^ 
sician, exploring the recesses of the human heart 
has just such a chance for finding the truth, as a 
man with microscopic eyes would have for finding 
the road. The latter might amuse himself with 
contemplating the various mineral strata that are 
diffused along the expansion of a needle's point ; 
but of the face of nature he could make nothing ; 
he would start back with horror from the caverns 
yawning between the mountainous grains of sand 
that lie before him ; but the real gulf or mountain 
he could not see at all. 

Is the futility of metaphysical systems exagge^ 
rated beyond the truth by this allusion ? Tell me, 

Socrates, the building of fanciful theories was so epidemical 
as in the present. If the men of learning formerly employed 
their ingenuity in defending the theories of that philosopher 
by whose name they were ambitious to be distinguished; they 
are now no less industrious in devising and vindicating, each, 
man a theory of his own. 

To conclude : the writings of this author, with all their 
imperfections, may be read by the philosopher with advantage, 
as they often direct to the right observation and interpretation 
of nature ; and by the Christian without detriment, as the 
cavils they contain against religion are too slight and too 
paradoxical to weaken the faith of any one who is tolerably in- 
structed in the principles and evidence of Christianity. To 
the man of taste they can never fail to recommend them- 
selves, by the irresistible charms of the composition. 

The improprieties in Rousseau's late conduct, appear to me 
to have arisen rather from bodily infirmity than from moral 
depravation, and consequently to render him an object of for- 
bearance and pity, rather than of persecution or ridicule. 



CHAP* II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 303 

then, in which of those systems I shall find such a 
description of the soul of man as would enable me 
to know what it is. A great and excellent author 
observes, that if all human things were to perish 
except the works of Shakespeare, it might still be 
known from them what sort of creature man was^: 
—A sentiment nobly imagined, and as just as it is 
sublime ! Can the same thing be said with truth of 
any oue, or of all the metaphysical treatises that 
have been written on the nature of man? If any 
inhabitant of another planet were to read The 
Treatise of Human Nature^ what notions of hu- 
man nature could he gather from it?— That man 
must believe one thing by instinct, .and must also 
believe the contrary by reason : — That the uni- 
verse is nothing but a heap of perceptions unper- 
ceived by any substance : That this universe, for 
any thing man knows to the contrary, might have 
made itself, that is, existed before it existed ; as 
we have no reason to believe that it proceeded 
from any cause, notwithstanding it may have had 
a beginning: — That though a man could bring 
himself to believe, yea, and have reason to believe, 
that every thing in the universe proceeds from 
some cause, yet it would be unreasonable for him 
to believe that the universe itself proceeds from a 
cause : — ^That the soul of man is not the same this 
moment it was the last ; that we know not what it 
is ; that it is not one, but many things ; and that 
it is nothing at all ; — and yet, that in this soul is 
the agency of all the causes that operate throughout 
the sensible creation ;< — and yet, that in this soul 
there is neither power nor agency, nor any idea of 
either v — That if thieves, cheats, and cut-throats, 
deserve to be hanged, cripples, idiots, and diseas- 
ed persons, should not be permitted to live ; be- 

• Lord Lyttleton'* Dialogues of the Dead 

D d 



304 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

cause the imperfections of the latter, and the faults 
of the former, are on the very same footing, both 
being disapproved hy those who contemplate them: 
— That the perfection of human knowledge is to 
doubt: — That man ought to believe nothing, and 
yet that man's belief ought to be influenced and 
determined by certain principles : — ^That we ought 
to doubt of every thing, yea of our doubts them- 
selves; and therefore the utmost that philosophy 
can do, is to give a doubtful solution of doubtful 
doubts^ : — That nature continually imposes on us, 
and continually counteracts herself, by giving us 
sagacity to detect the imposture: — That we are 
necessarily and unavoidably determined to act and 
think in certain cases after a certain manner, but 
that we ought not to submit to this unavoidable ne- 
cessity ; and that they are fools who do so : — That 
man, in all his perceptions, actions, and volitions, 
is a mere passive machine, and has no separate ex- 
istence of his own, being entirely made up of other 
things, of the existence of which, however, he is 
by no means certain ; and yet, that the nature of 
ail things depends so much upon man, that two and 
two could not be equal to four, nor fire produce 
heat, nor the sun light, without an express act of 
the human understanding : — That none of our ac- 
tions are in our power ; that we ought to exercise 
powder over our actions ; and that there is no such 
thing as power: — That body and motion may be 
regarded as the cause of thought ; and that body 
does not exist : — That the universe exists in the 
mind; and that the mind does not exist: — That 
the human understanding, acting alone, does en- 

* Strange as this expression may seem, it is not without a 
precedent. The fourth section of Mr. Hume's Essays on the 
Human Understanding is called, Sceptical doubts cencerning the 
operations of the understanding ; and the fifth section bears this 
title, Sceptical solution of these doubts. 



GHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 305 

tirely subvert itself, and prove by argument, that 
by argument nothing can be proved : — These are a 
lew of the many sublime mysteries brought to 
light by this great philosopher. But these, how- 
ever they may illuminate our terrestrial literati^ 
would convey no information to the planetary^ 
stranger, except perhaps that the sage metaphysi- 
cian knew nothing of this subject. 

What a strange detail ! does not the reader ex- 
claim ? Can it be, that any man should ever bring 
himself to think, or imagine that he could bring 
others to think so absurdly ! What a taste, what a 
hearts must he possess, whose delight it is, to re- 
present nature as a chaos, and man as a monster ; 
to search for deformity and confusion, where 
others rejoice in the perception of order and beau- 
ty ; and to seek to imbitter the happiest moments 
of human life, namely, those we employ in contem- 
plating the works of creation, and adoring their 
Author, by this suggestion, equally false and male- 
volent, that the moral as well as material world, is 
nothing but darkness, dissonance, and perplexity ! 

** Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds 
•' Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things, 
** Abominable, unutterable, and worse 
** Than fable yet hath feign'd, or fear conceived !" 

Were this system a true one, we should be little 
obliged to him who gives it to the public ; for we 
could hardly imagine a greater misfortune than 
such a cast of understanding as would make us be- 
lieve it. But founded, as it is, in words misunder- 
stood, and facts misrepresented; — supported, as 
it is, by sophistry so egregious, and often so pue- 
rile, that we can hardly conceive how even the au- 
thor himself should be imposed upon by it ; — surely 
he who attempts to obtrude it on the weak and un- 
wary, must have something in his disposition. 



306 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

%vhich, to a man of a good heart, or good taste, 
can never be the object of envy. 

We are told, that the end of scepticism, as it was 
taught by Pyrrho, Sextus Empiricus, and other an- 
cients, was to obtain indistiirba?2ce. I knov/ not 
whether this be the end our modern sceptics have 
in view ; if it is, the means they employ for attain- 
ing it are strangely preposterous. If the prospect 
of nature exhibited in their systems produce tran- 
quillity or indisturbance, how dreadful must that 
tranquillity be ! It is like that of a man, turned a- 
drift amidst a dark anct tempestuous ocean, in a 
crazy skiff, with neither rudder nor compass, who, 
exhausted by the agitations of despair and distrac- 
tion, loses at last all sense of his misery, and be- 
comes totally stupid. In fact, the only thing, that 
can enable sceptics to endure existence, is insensi- 
bility. And how far that is consistent with deli- 
cacy of mind, let those among them explain v/ho 
are ambitious of passing for men of taste. 

It is remarked by a very ingenious and amiable 
Writer, that ^^many philosophers have been infidels, 
few men of taste and sentiment^." This, if I 
mistake not, holds equally true of our sceptics in 
philosophy, and infidels in religion : and it holds 
true of both for the same reason. The views and 
expectations of the infidel and sceptic are so full of 
horror, that to a man of taste, that is, of sensi- 
bility and imagination, they are insupportable. 
On the other hand, what true religion and true phi- 
losophy dictate of God, and providence, and man, 
is so charming, so consonant with all the finer and 
nobler feelings in human nature, that every man of 
taste who hears of it must wish it to be true : and I 
never yet heard of one person of candour, who 
wished to find the evidence of the gospel satisfac- 

* Dr. Gregory^s Comparative View, p. 201 o fotirth edition. 



CHAP. lU AN ESSAY ON TRtJTH. S07 

tory, and did not find it so. Dull imaginations 
and hard hearts can bear the thoughts of endless 
confusion, of virtue depressed and vice triumph- 
ant, of an universe peopled with fiends and furies, 
of creation annihilated, and chaos restored to re- 
main a scene of darkness and solitude forever and 
for ever: But it is not so with the benevolent and 
tender-hearted ; their notions are regulated by ano- 
ther standard ; their hopes and fears, their joys 
and sorrows, are quite of a different kind. 

The moral powers and the powers of taste are 
more congenial than is commonly imagined ; and 
he Vv^ho is destitute of the latter, will ever be found 
as incapable to describe or judge of the former, as 
a man wanting the sense of smell is to decide con- 
cerning relishes. Nothing is more true, than 
that " a little learning is a dangerous thing." If we 
are but a little acquainted with one part of a com- 
plicated system, how is it possible for us to judge 
aright, either of the nature of the whole, or the fit- 
ness of that part ! And a little knowledge of one 
small part of tiie mental system, is all that any man 
can be allowed to have, who is defective in imagi- 
nation, sensibility, and the other powers of taste. 
Yet, as ignorance is apt to produce temerity, I 
should not be surprised to find such men most for- 
ward to attempt reducing the philosophy of human 
nature to system : and, if they made the attempt, 
I should not wonder that they fell into the most 
important mistakes. Like a short-sighted land- 
scape painter, they might possibly delineate some 
of the largest and roughest figures with tolerable 
exactness: but of the minuter objects, some would 
wholly escape their notice, and others appear blot- 
ted and distorted, on which nature had bestowed 
the utmost delicacy of colour, and harmony of 
proportion. 

»d2 



308 An essay on truth. part iix. 

The modern sceptical philosophy is as corrupt a 
body of Bcience as ever appeared in the world. 
And it deserves our notice, that the most consid- 
erable of its adherents and promoters were more 
eminent for subtlety of reason, than for sensibility 
of taste. We know that this was the case with 
Malebranche, of whom Mr. D'Alembert says, 
that he could not read the most sublime verses 
without weariness and disgust^'. This was also 
the case with another author, to whom our later 
sceptics are more obliged than they seem wiUing 
to acknowledge, I mean Mr. Hobbes; whose 
translation of Homer bears just such a resemblance 
to the Iliad and Odyssey, as a putrefying carcase 
bears to a beautiful and vigorous human body. Of 
the taste of our later sceptics, I leave the reader to 
judge from his own observ^ation. 

The philosophy of the mind, if such as it ought 
to be, would certainly interest us more than any 
other science. Are the sceptical treatises on this 
subject interesting? Do they bring conviction to the 
judgment, or delight to the fancy? Do they either 
reach the heart, or seem to proceed from it ? Do 
they make us better acquainted with ourselves, or 
better prepared for the business of life ? Do they 
not rather enfeeble and harass the soul, divert its 
attention from every thing that can enlarge and 
improve it, give it a disrelish for itself, and for 
every thing else, and disqualify it alike for action, 
and for useful knowledge ? 

Other causes might be assigned for the present 
degeneracy of the moral sciences. I shall mention 
one, which I the rather choose to take notice of, 
and insist upon, because it has been generally over- 
looked. Des Cartes and Malebranche introduced 
the fashion, which continues to this day, of neglect- 

J. 

* Essai 5ur le Gout. 



CHAP- lU AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 509 

ing the ancients in all their philosophical inquiries. 
We seem to think, because we are confessedly 
superior in some sciences, that we must be so in 
all. But that this is a rash judgment, may easily be 
made appear, even on the supposition, that human 
genius is nearly the same in ail ages. 

When accidental discovery, long experience, or 
profound investigation, are the means of advancing 
a science, it is reasonable to expect, that the im- 
provements of that science will increase with length 
of time. Accordingly we find, that in natural 
philosophy, natural history, and some parts of 
mathematical learning, the moderns are far supe- 
rior to the ancients. But the science of human na- 
ture, being attainable rather by intuition than by 
deep reasoning or nice experiment, must depend 
for its cultivation upon other causes. Different 
ages and nations have different customs. Some- 
times it is the fashion to be reserved and affected, 
at other times to be simple and sincere: sometimes, 
therefore, it will be easy, and at other times diffi- 
cult to gain a competent knowledge of human na* 
ture by observation. In the old romances, we 
seek for human nature in vain ; the manners are all 
affected ; prudery is the highest, and almost the 
only ornament of the women: and a fantastical 
honour of the men : but the writers adapted them- 
selves to the prevailing taste, and painted the 
manners as they saw them. In our own country, 
we have seen various modes of affectation, succes- 
sively prevail within a few years. To say nothing 
of present times ; every body knows, how much 
pedantry, libertinism, and false wit, contributed 
to disguise human nature in the last century. And 
I apprehend, that in all monarchies one mode or 
other of artificial manners must always prevail; to 
the formation of which, the character of princes^ 



310 An ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

the taste of the times, and a variety of other causes 
will co-operate. 

Montesquieu's opinion, that the courts of mon- 
archs must always of necessity be corrupt, I cannot 
subscribe to. I think, that virtue may be, and 
sometimes is, the principle of action, even in the 
highest offices of monarchy : my meaning is, that, 
under this form of government, human manners 
must generally deviate, more or less, from the 
simplicity of nature, and that, consequently, hu- 
man sentiments must be of more difficult investiga- 
tion than under some other forms. In Courts, it. 
seems requisite, for the sake of that order which is 
essential to dignity, to establish certain punctilios 
in dress, language, and gesture: there too, the most 
inviolable secresy is expedient; and there, where 
men are always under the eye of their superiors, 
and for the most part engaged in the pursuits of 
ambition or interest, a smoothness of behaviour 
will naturally take place, which, among persons of 
ordinary talents, and ordinary virtue, must on 
many occasions degenerate into hypocrisj^. The cus- 
toms of the court are always imitated by the higher 
ranks; the middle ranks follow the higher; and 
the people come after as fast as they can. It is 
however, in the last mentioned class, where nature 
appears with the least disguise : but, unhappily for 
moral science, the vulgar are seldom objects of 
curiosity, either to our philosophers, or historians. 
The influence of these causes, in distinguishing 
human sentiments, will, I presume, be greater or 
less, according as the monarchy partakes more or 
less of democratical principle s.-^-There is, indeed, 
one set of sentiments, which monarchy and modern 
manners are peculiarly fitted for disclosing^ I mean 
those that relate to gallantry : but whether these 
tend to make human nature more or less know% 
might perhaps bear a question. 



6t'AP. II* AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 311 

Modern history ought, on many accounts, to in- 
terest us more than the ancient. It describes man- 
ners that are familiar to us, events whereof we see 
and feel the consequences, political establishments 
on which our property and security depend, and 
places and persons in which experience or tradition 
has already given us a concern. And yet I believe 
it will be generally acknowledged, that the ancient 
histories, particularly of Greece and Rome, are 
more interesting than those of later times. In fact, 
the most affecting part, both of history and of po- 
etry, is that which best displays the characters, 
manners, and sentiments of men. Histories that 
are deficient in this respect, may communicate in- 
struction to the geographer, the warrior, the gene- 
alogist, and the politician ; but will never please 
the general taste, because they excite no passion, 
and awaken no sympathy. Now, I cannot help 
thinking that the personages described in modern 
history have, with a very few exceptions, a stiffness 
and reserve about them, which doth not seem to 
adhere to the great men of antiquity, particularly 
of Greece. I will not say, that our historians have 
less ability or less industry ; but I would say, that 
democratical governments, like those of ancient 
Greece, are more favourable to simplicity of man- 
ners, and consequently to the knowledge of the 
human mind, than our modern monarchies. At 
Athens and Sparta, the pu'jlic assemblies, the pub- 
lic exercises, the regular attendance given to all the 
public solemnities, whether religious or civil, and 
other institutions that might be mentioned, gave 
the citizens many opportunities of being well ac- 
quainted with one another. There the great men 
were not cooped up in palaces and coaches ; they 
were almost constantly in the open air, and on foot. 
The people saw them every day, conversed with 
them, and observeti'tby^ir behaviour in the hours 



312 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

of relaxation, as well as af business. Themistocles 
could call every citizen of Athens by his name ; a 
proof that the great men courted an universal ac- 
quaintance. 

No degree of genius will ever make one a profi- 
cient in the science of man, without accurate obser- 
vation of human nature in all its varieties. Homer, 
the greatest master in this science ever known, 
passed the most of his life in travelling : his pov- 
erty, and other misfortunes, made him often de- 
pendent on the meanest, as his talents recommend- 
ed him to the friendship of the greatest ; so that 
what he says of Ulysses may justly be applied to 
himself, that " he visited many states and nations, 
and knew the characters of many men." Virgil 
had not the same opportunities : he lived in an age 
of more refinement, and was perhaps too much 
conversant in courtly life, as well as too bashful in 
his deportment, and delicate in his constitution, to 
study the varieties of human nature, where in a 
monarchy they are most conspicuous, namely in 
the middle and lower ranks of mankind. Need we 
wonder, then, that in the display of character he 
falls so far short of his great original ? Shakespeare 
was familiarly acquainted with all ranks and con- 
ditions of men ; without which, notwithstanding 
his unbounded imagination, it is not to be sup- 
posed, that he could have succeeded so w;ell in de- 
lineating every species of human character, from 
the constable to the monarch, from the hero to the 
clown. And it deserves our notice, that, however 
ignorant he might be of Latin and Greek, he was 
well acquainted, by translation, with some of the 
ancients, particularly Plutarch, whom he seems to 
have studied with much attention, and who indeed 
excels all historians in exhibiting lively and inte- 
resting views of human nature. Great vicissitudes 
of fortune gave Fielding an opportunity of associa- 



CHAP. II, AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 313 

ting with all classes of men, except perhaps the 
highest, whom he rarely attempts to describe : 
SwiiVs way of life is well known : and I have been 
told, that Congreve used to mingle in disguise with 
the common people, and pass whole days and weeks 
among them. 

That the ancient painters and statuaries were in 
many respects superior to the modern, is univer- 
sally allowed. The monuments of their genius 
that still remain, would convince us of it, even 
though we were to suppose the accounts given by 
Pliny, Lucian, and other contemporary authors, 
to be a little exaggerated. The uncommon spirit 
and elegance of their attitudes and proportions ^re 
obvious to every eye: and a great master seems to 
think, that modern artists, though they ought to 
imitate, can never hope to equal the magnificence 
of their ideas, or the beauty of their figures^. To 
account for this, we need not suppose, that human 
genius decays as the world grows older. It may 
be ascribed, partly to the superior elegance of the 
hviman form in those days, and partly to the artists 
having then better opportunities of observing the 
human body, free from the incumbrances of dress j 
in all the varieties of action and motion. The an- 
cient discipline of the Greeks and Romans, parti- 
cularly the former, was admirably calculated for 
improving the human body in health, strength, 
swiftness, flexibility, and grace. In these res- 
pects, therefore, they could hardly fail to excel the 
moderns, whose education and manners tend rather 
to enervate the body, and cramp all its faculties. 
And, as the ancients performed their exercises in 
public, and performed many of them naked, and 
thought it honourable to excel in them ; as their 
clothing was much less cumbersome than our Go- 
thic apparel, and shewed the body to more advan- 

* Fresnoy, De Arte Graphica, lin. 190. 



314 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III, 

tage; it must be allowed, that their painters and 
statuaries had far better opportunities of observa- 
tion than ours enjoy, who see nothing but auk ward 
and languid figures, disguised by an unwieldly and 
ungraceful attire. 

Will it not, then, be acknowledged, that the an- 
cients may have excelled the moderns in the science 
of human nature, provided it can be shewn, that 
they had better opportunities of observing it? 
That this was the case, appears from what has been 
already said. And that they really excelled us in 
this science, will not be doubted by those who ac- 
knowledge their superiority in rhetoric and criti- 
cism ; two arts which are founded in the philoso- 
phy of the human mind. But a more direct proof 
of the point in question, may be had in the writ- 
ings of Homer, Plutarch, and the Socratic philoso- 
phers ; which, for their admirable pictures of hu- 
man nature in its genuine simplicity, are not equal- 
led by any compositions of a later date. Of Aris- 
totle I say nothing. We are assured by those who 
have read his works, that no author ever under- 
stood human nature better than he. Fielding him- 
self^ pays him this compliment ; and his testimo- 
ny will be allowed to have considerable weight. 

Let me therefore recommend it to those philo- 
sophers who may hereafter make human nature the 
subject of their speculation, to study the ancients 
more than our modern sceptics seem to have done. 
If we set out, like the author of The Treatise of 
Human Nature J with a fixed purpose to advance as 
many paradoxes as possible; or with this foolish 
conceit, that men in all former ages were utter 
strangers to themselves, and to one another; and 
that we are the first of our species on 'whom Na- 
ture has bestowed any glimmerings of discernment ; 
we may depend on it, that in proportion as our va- 

• Fielding's works, vol. xi. p. SS4f, London, 1766, 12mo. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 315 

nity and arrogance are great, our success will be 
small. It will be, like that of a musician, who 
should take it in his head, that Corelli had no taste 
in counterpoint, nor Handel or Jackson any genius 
for melody; of an epic poet, who should fancy 
that Homer, Virgil, and Milton, were very bad 
writers ; or of a painter, who should suppose all 
his brethren of former times to have been unac- 
quainted with the colours, lineaments, and propor- 
tions of visible objects. 

If Columbus, before he set out on his famous 
expedition to the western world, had amused him- 
self with writing a history of the countries he was 
going to visit ; w^ould the lovers of truth, and in- 
terpreters of nature, have received any improve- 
ment or satisfaction from such a specimen of his 
ingenuity ? And is not the system which, without 
regard to experience, a philosopher frames in his 
closet, concerning the nature of man, equally frivo- 
lous ? If Columbus, in such a history, had describ- 
ed the Americans with two heads, cloven feet, 
wings, and a scarlet complexion; and, after visit- 
ing them, and finding his description false in every 
particular, had yet published that description to 
the world, affirming it to be true, and at the same 
time acknowledging, that it did not correspond 
with his experience ; I know not whether mankind 
would have been most disposed to blame his disin- 
genuity, to laugh at his absurdity, or to pity his 
want of understanding. And yet we have known 
a metaphysician to contrive a system of human na- 
ture, and, though sensible that it did not corres- 
pond with the real appearances of human nature, 
deliver it to the v/orld as incontrovertible truth; 
we have heard this system applauded as a master- 
piece of genius, and admitted as incontrovertible 
truth ; and w« have seen the experience of indivi- 
duals, the universal consent of nations, the ac-cu- 

EC 



''316' AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART "III, 

Ululated wisdom of ages, and every principle in 
philosophy, every truth in religion, and every dic- 
tate of common sense, sacrificed to this Contempti- 
ble and self-contradictory chimera, 

I would further recommend it to our moral phi^ 
losophers, to study themselves with candour and 
attention, and cultivate an acquaintance with man- 
kind, especially with those whose manners retain 
most of the truth and simplicity of nature. Ac- 
quaintance with the great makes a man of fashion, 
but will not make a philosopher. They who are 
ambitious to merit this appellation, think nothing 
below them which the author of nature has been 
pleased to create, to preserve, and to adorn.- — 
Away with this passion for system-building! it is 
pedantry: away with this lust of parodox! it is 
presumption. Be equally ashamed of dogmatical 
prejudice, and sceptical incredulity; for both are 
as remote from the spirit of true philosophy, as 
bullying and cowardice from true valour. 

It will be^ said, perhaps, that a general know- 
ledge of man is sufficient for the philosopher; and 
that this particular knowledge which we recom- 
mend, is necessary only for the novelist and poet. 
But let it be remembered, that many important 
errors in moral philosophy have arisen from the 
want of this particular knowledge ; and that it is by 
too little, not by too much experience, by scanty, 
not by copious induction, that philosophy is cor- 
rupted. Men have rarely framed a system, with- 
out first consulting experience in regard to some 
few obvious facts. We are apt to be prejudiced in 
favour of the notions that prevail within our own 
narrow circle ; but we must quit that circle if we 
would divest ourselves of prejudice, as we must go 
from home if we would get rid of our provincial 
apcent. ^^ Horace asserts wisdom and good sense 
to be the somx.e aad principle of good writing ; for 



CHAP. II* AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 31 



*-f 



the attainment of which he prescribes a careful 
study of the Socratic, that is, moral wisdom, and 
a thorough acquaintance with human nature that 
great exemplar of manners, as he finely calls it ; 
or^ in other words, a wide extensive view of 
real practical life. The joint direction of these 
two," I quote the words of an admirable critic and 
most ingenuous philosopher, *' as means of acquir- 
ing moral knowledge, is perfectly necessary. For 
the former, when alone, is apt to grow abstracted 
and unaffecting ; the latter uninsti^ucting and super- 
ficial. The philosopher talks without experience, 
and the man of the world without principles. 
United they supply each other's defects ; while 
the man of the world borrows so much of the phi- 
losopher, as to be able to adjust the several senti- 
ments with precision and exactness ; and the philo- 
sopher so much of the man of the world, as to copy 
the manners of life (which we can only do by ex- 
perience) with truth and spirit. Both together 
furnish a thorough and complete comprehension of 
human life"^. 

That I may not be thought a blind admirer of 
antiquity, I would here crave the reader's indul- 
gence for one short digression more, in order to 
put him in mind of an important error in morals, 
inferred from partial and inaccurate experience, by 
no less a person than Aristotle himself. He argues, 
^^ That men of little genius, and great bodily 
strength, are by nature destined to serve, and those 
of better capacity, to command; that the natives of 
Greece, and of some other countries, being natu- 
rally superior in genius, have a natural right to 
empire ; and that the rest of mankind, being natu- 

* Kurd's Commentj^ry on Horace's Epistle, to the Pisos^ 
p. ^5, edit. 4r. 



318 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III* 

rally stupid, are destined to labour and slavery'^,"^ 
This reasoning is now, alas ! of little advantage to 
Aristotle's countrymen, who have for many ages 
been doomed to that slavery, which, in his judg- 
ment, nature had destined them to impose on 
others; and many nations whom he would have 
consigned to everlasting stupidity, have shown 
themselves equal in genius to the most exalted of 
human kind. It would have been more worthy o-f 
Aristotle, to have inferred man^ natural and uni- 
versal right to liberty, from that natural and uni- 
versal passion with which men desire it, and from 
the salutary consequences to learning, to virtue, 
and to every human improvement, of which it 
never fails to be productive. He wanted, perhaps, 
to devise some excuse for servitude ; a practice 
which to their eternal reproach, both Greeks and 
Romans tolerated even in the days of their glory. 

Mr. Hume argues nearly in the same manner in 
regard to the superiority of white men over black. 
^^ I am apt to suspect," says he, " the negroes, and 
in general all the other species of men, (for there 
are four or five different kinds), to be naturally in- 
ferior to the whites. There never was a civilized 
nation of any other complexion than white, nor 
even any iiidividual eminent either in action of 
speculation. No ingenious manufactures among 
them, no arts, no sciences. — There are negro- 
slaves dispersed all over Europe, of which none 
ever discovered any symptoms of ingenuity f." 
These assertions are strong ; but I know not whe- 
ther they have any thing else to recommend them. 
For, first, though true, they would not prove the 
point in question, except it were also proved, that 
the Africans and Americans, even though arts and 

** De Repiibl. lib. 1. cap. 5, 6, 

f Hume's Essay on National Characters'. 



CHAP. II. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. Si^ 

sciences were introduced among them, would still 
remain unsusceptible of cultivation. The inhabi- 
tants of Great Britain and France were as savage 
two thousand years ago, as those of Africa and 
America are at this day. To civilize a nation is a 
work which requires long time to accomplish. 
And one may as well say of an infant, that he can 
never become a man, as of a nation now barbarous, 
that it never can be civilized. — Secondly, of the 
facts here asserted, no man could have sufficient 
evidence, except from a personal acquaintance with 
all the negroes that now are, or ever were, on the 
face of the earth. These people write no histories; 
and all the reports of all the travellers that ever 
visited them, will not amount to any thing like a 
proof of what is here affirmed. — But, thirdly, we 
know that these assertions are not true. The em- 
pires of Peru and Mexico could not have been gov- 
erned, nor the metropolis of the latter built after 
so singular a manner, in the middle of a lake, 
without men eminent both for action and specula- 
tion. Every body has heard of the magnificence, 
good government, and ingenuity, of the ancient 
Peruvians. The Africans and Americans are 
known to have manv ingenious manufactures and 
arts among them, which even Europeans would 
find it no easy matter to imitate. Sciences indeed 
they have none, because they have no letters ; but 
in oratory, some of them, particularly the Indians 
of the Five Nations^ are said to be greatly our supe- 
riors. It will be readily allowed that the condition 
of a slave is not favourable to genius of any kind ; 
and yet, the negro-slaves dispersed over Europe^ 
have often discovered symptoms of ingenuity, not^ 
withstanding their unhappy circumstances. They 
become excellent handicraftsmen, and practical 
musicians, and indeed learn every thing their mas- 
ters are at pains to teach them, perfidy and de- 

E e 2 



S20 AN ESSAY ON TRUTHS PART HI. 

bauchery not excepted. That a negi^o-slave, who 
can neither read nor write, nor speak any Euro- 
pean language, who is not permitted to do any 
thing but what his master commands, and who has 
not a single friend on earth, but is universally, con- 
sidered and treated as if he were of a species infe- 
rior to. the human ; — that such a creature should so 
distinguish himself among Europeans, as to be 
talked of through the world for a man of genius, 
is surely no reasonable expectation; To svippose 
him of an inferior species, because he does not thus 
distinguish himself, is just as rational, as to suppose 
any private European of an inferior species, be- 
cause he has not raised himself to the condition of 
royalty. 

Had the Europeans been destitute of the arts of 
writing and working in iron, they might have re- 
mained to this day as barbarous as the natives of 
Africa and America. Nor is the invention of 
these arts to be ascribed to our superior capacity. 
The genius of the inventor is not always to be esti- 
mated according to the importance of the invention. 
Gun-powder and the mariner's compass have pro- 
duced wonderful revolutions in human affairs, and 
yet were accidental discoveries. Such, probably, 
were the first essays in writing and working in iron. 
Suppose them the effects of contrivance : they were 
at least contrived by a few individuals ; and if 
they required a superiority of understanding, or 
of species, in the inventors, those inventors, and 
their descendants, are the only persons who can 
lay claim to the honour of that superiority. 

That every practice and sentiment is barbarous 
which is not according to the usages of modern 
Europe, seems to be a fundamental maxim with 
many of our critics and philosophers. Their re- 
marks often put us in mind of the fable of the man 
aud the lion. If Negroes or Jndians were clisposed 



CHAP. Ill* AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 321 

to recriminate ; if a Lucian or a Voltaire from the 
coast of Guinea, or from the five nations, were to 
pay us a visit, what a picture of European manners 
might he present to his countrymen at his return ! 
Nor would caricatura, or exaggeration be necessary 
to render it hideous^ A plain historical account of 
some of our most fashionable duelists, ganiblers, 
and adulterers, (to name no more), would exhibit 
specimens of brutish barbarity, and sottish infatua- 
tion, such as niig4u vie with any that ever appear- 
ed in Kamschatka, California, or the land of the 
Hottentots. 

It is easy to see with what views some modern 
authors throw out these hints to prove the natural 
inferiority of negroes. But let every friend to hu- 
manity pray, that thej^ may be disappointed. Bri- 
tons are famous for generosity ; a virtue in which it 
is easy for them to excel both the Romans and the 
Greeks. Let it never be said, that slavery is coun- 
tenanced by the bravest, and most generous people 
on earth ; by a people who are animated with that 
heroic passion, the love of liberty, beyond all na- 
tions ancient or modern ; and the fame of whose 
toilsome, but unwearied perseverance, in vindicat- 
ing, at the expence of life and fortune, the sacred 
rights of mankind, will strike terror into the hearts 
of sycophants and tyrants, and excite the admi- 
ration and gratitude of all good men to the latest 
posterity. 



CHAP. III. 

Consequences of Metaphysical Scepticism^ 

AFTER all, it will perhaps be objected to this 
discourse, that I have laid too much stress upon 
the consequences of metaphysical absurdity, and ire- 



322 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, PART Ilf^ 

presented them as much more dangerous than they 
are found to be in fact. I shall be told, that many 
of the controversies in metaphysic are merely ver- 
bal ; and the errors proceeding from them of so ab- 
stract a nature, that philosophers run little risk, and 
the vulgar no risk at all^ of being influenced by 
them in practice. It will be said, that I never heard: 
of any man who fell a sacrifice to Berkeley's sys- 
tem, by breaking his neck over a material preci- 
pice, w^hich he had taken for an ideal one ; nor of 
any Fatalist, whose morals were, upon the whole, 
more exceptionable than those of the assertors of 
free agency : in a word, that whatever effect such 
tenets may have upon the understanding, they sel- 
dom or never produce any sensible effects upon 
the heart. In considering this objection, I must 
confine myself to a few topics, for the subject to 
which it leads is of vast extent. The influence of 
the metaphysical spirit upon art, science, and man- 
ners, would furnish matter for a large treatise. It 
will suffice at present to shew, that metaphysical 
errors are not harmless, but may produce, and ac- 
tually have produced some very important and in- 
teresting consequences. 

I begin with an observation often made, and in- 
deed obvious enough, namely. That happiness is the 
end of our being ; and that knowledge, and even 
truth itself, are valuable only as they tend to pro- 
mote it. Every useless study is a pernicious thing, 
because it wastes our time and misemploys our fa- 
culties. To prove that metaphysical absurdities do 
no good, would therefore sufficiently justify the 
present undertaking. But it requires no deep sa- 
gacity to be able to prove a great deal more. 

We acknowledge, however, that all metaphysical 
errors are not equally dangerous. There is an ob- 
scurity in the abstract sciences, as they are common- 
ly taught, which is often no bad preservative against 



CHAP. III. AN ESSAY ON TRUfH, 323 

their influence. This obscurity is sometimes una- 
voidable, on account of the insufficiency of lan- 
guage ; sometimes it is owing to the spiritless and 
slovenly style of the writer ; and sometimes it is 
affected : as when a philosopher, from prudential 
considerations, thinks fit to disguise any occasional 
attack on the religion or laws of his country, by 
some artful equivocation, in the form of allegory, 
dialogue, or fable ^. The style of The Treatise of 
Human Nature is so exceedingly obscure and un- 
interesting, that if the Author had not in his Essays 
re-published the capital doctrines of that work in a 
style more elegant and sprightly, a confutation of 
them would have been altogether unnecessary : 
their uncouth and gloomy aspect would have de- 
terred most people from courting their acquaint- 
ance. And, after all, though this author is one of 

* Mr. Hume is not unacquainted with this piece of policy. 
His apology for Atheism he delivers by the mouth of 2^friendy 
in the way of conference, prefaced with a declaration, that 
though he cannot by any means approve many of the sen- 
timents of that friend, yet he thinks they bear some rela- 
tion to the chain of reasoning carried on in his inquiry con- 
cerning human nature. He had something, it seems, to say 
against his Maker, which he modestly acknowledges to be 
curious, and worthy of attention, and which he thought, no 
doubt, to be mighty smart and clever. To call it what it 
really is, An attempt to vindicate Atheism, or what he proba- 
bly thought it, A vindication of Atheism, seemed dangerous, 
and might disgust many of his well-meaning readers : He calls 
it, therefore, A71 Essay on a Particular Providence and a Future 
State, and puts his capital arguments in the mouth of ano- 
ther person : thus providing by the same generous, candid, 
and manly ejcpedient, a snare for the unwary reader, and an 
evasion for himself. Perhaps it will be asked, what I mean 
by the word Atheist f I answer, A reasonable creature, who 
disbelieves the being of God, or thinks it inconsistent with 
sound reason, to believe that the great First Cause is perfect 
in holiness, power, wisdom, justice and beneficence, — is a 
speculative Atheist; and he who endeavours to instill the same 
uubf lief into others, is a practical Atheist. 



324 AN ESSAY ONl^RUTH. PART III, 

the deadlkst, he is not perhaps one of the most 
dangerous enemies of religion. Bolingbroke, his 
inferior in subtlety, but far superior in wit, elo- 
quence, and knowledge of mankind, is more dan- 
gerous, because more entertaining. So that though 
the reader may be disposed to applaud the patriot- 
ism of the grand jury of Westminster, who present- 
ed the posthumous works of that noble lord as a 
public nuisance, he must be sensible that there was 
no necessity for affixing any such stigma 'to the phi- 
losophical writings of the Scottish author. And yet 
it cannot be denied, that even these, notwithstand« 
ing their obscurity, have done mischief enough to 
make every sober-minded person earnestly wish 
that they had never existed. 

Further, some metaphysical errors are so grossly 
absurd, that there is hardly a possibility of their 
perverting our conduct. Such, considered in itself, 
is the doctrine of the non-existence of matter ; 
which no man in his senses was ever capable of be- 
lieving for a single moment. Pyrrho was a vain 
hypocrite : he took it in his head to say that he be- 
lieved nothing, because he wanted to be taken no- 
tice of: he affected, too, to act up to this pretended 
disbelief; and would not of his own accord step 
aside to avoid a dog, a chariot, or a precipice : but 
he always took care to have some friends or ser- 
vants at hand, whose business it was to keep the 
philosopher out of harm's way. — That the universe 
is nothing bvit a heap oi impressions and ideas un- 
perceived by any substance, is another of those pro- 
found mysteries, from which we need not appre- 
hend much danger ; because it is so perfectly ab- 
surd, that no words but such as imply a contradicr 
tion, will express it. I know not whether the ab- 
surdity of a system was ever before urged as an 
apology for its author. But it is better to be absurd 
than piischievous : and happy it were; for the worick 



CHAP. III. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. -325 

and mxicli to the credit of some persons now in it, 
if metaphysicians were chargeable with nothing 
worse than absurdity. 

Again, certain errors in our theories of human 
nature, considered in themselves, are in some mea- 
sure harmless, when the principles that oppose 
their influence are strong and active. A gentle dis- 
position, confirmed habits of virtue, obedience to 
law, a regard to order, or even the fear of punish- 
ment, often prove antidotes to metaphysical poison. 
When Fatality has these principles to combat, it 
may puzzle the judgment, but will not corrupt the 
heart. Natural instinct never fails to oppose it 5 
all men believe themselves free agents, as long at 
least as they keep clear of metaphysic ; nay, so pow- 
erful is the sentimeiit of moral liberty, that I can- 
not think it was ever entirely subdued in any ra- 
tional being. But if it were subdued, (and surely 
no Fatalist will acknowledge it invincible); if the 
opposite principles should at the same time cease 
to act ; and if debauchery, bad example, and licen- 
tious writings, should extinguish or weaken the 
sense of duty; what might not be apprehended 
from men who are above law, or can screen them- 
selves from punishment ? What virtue is to be ex- 
pected from a being who believes itself a mere ma- 
chine ? If I were persuaded, that the evil I com- 
mit is imposed upon me by fatal necessity, I should 
think repentance as absurd as Xerxes scourging^ 
the waves of the Hellespont ; and be as little dis- 
posed to form resolutions of amendment, as to con- 
trive schemes for preventing the frequent eclipses 
of the satellites of Jupiter. Every author who pub- 
lishes an essay in behalf of Fatality, is willing to 
run the risk of bringing all men over to his opinion. 
What if this should be the consequence ? If it be 
possible to make one reasonable creature a Fatal- 
ist, may it not be possible to make many such? 



326 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART Hi, 

And would this be a matter of little or no mo- 
ment ? It is demonstrable, that it would not. But 
we have already explained ourselves on this head. 

Other metaphysical errors there are, which, 
though they do not strike more directly at the foun- 
dations of virtue, are more apt to influence man- 
kind, because they are not so vigorously counter- 
acted by any particular propensity. Vv^hat shall we 
say to the theory of Hobbes, who makes the dis- 
tinction between vice and virtue to be wholly arti- 
ficial, without any foundation in the divine will, or 
human constitution, and depending entirely on the 
arbitrary laws of human governors ? According to 
this account, no action that is commanded by a king 
can be vitious, and none virtuous except warranted 
by that authority. Were this opinion universal, 
what could deter men from secret wickedness, or 
such as is not cognisable by law ? What could re- 
strain governors from the utmost insolence of ty- 
ranny ? What but a miracle could save the human 
race from perdition. 

In the preface to one of Mr. Hume's late publi- 
cations, we are presented with an elaborate pane- 
gyric on the author. " He hath exerted, says the 
writer of the preface, those great talents he receiv- 
ed from Nature, and the acquisitions he made by 
study, in search of truth, and in promoting the 
good of mankind." A noble encomium indeed! 
If it be a true one, what are we to think of a Dou- 
glas, a Campbell, a Gerard, a Reid, and some 
others, who have attacked several of Mr. Hume's 
opinions, and proved them to be contrary to truth, 
and subversive of the good of mankind ? I thought 
indeed, that the works of those excellent writers 
had given great satisfaction to the friends of truth 
and virtue, and done an important service to soci- 
ety: but, if I believe this prefacer, I must look on 
them, as well as on this attempt of my own, with: 



CHAP, III. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 32T 

detestation and horror. Btit before so great a 
change in my sentiments can take place, it will be 
necessary, that Mr. Hume prove, to my satisfac- 
tion, that he is neither the author nor the pubUsher 
of the Essays that bear his name, nor of the Trea- 
tise of Human Nature* For I will not take it on 
his, nor on any man's word, that religion, both 
revealed and natural, and all conviction in regard 
to truth, are detrimental to mankind. And it is 
most certain, that he, if he is indeed the author 
of those Essays, and of that Treatise, hath exerted 
his great talents, and employed several years of his 
life, in endeavouring to persuade the world, that 
the fundamental doctrines of natural religion are 
irrational, and the proofs of revealed religion such 
as ought not to satisfy an impartial mind ; and that 
there is not in any science an evidence of truth 
sufficient to produce certainty. Suppose these 
opinions established in the world, and say, if you 
can, that the good of mankind would be promoted 
by them. To me it seems impossible for society 
to exist under the influence of such opinions. Nor' 
let it be thought, that we give an unfavourable 
view of human nature, when we insist on the neces- 
sity of good principles for the preservation of good 
order. Such a total subversion of human sentiment 
is, I believe, impossible : mankind at their very 
worst, are not such monsters, as to admit it ; rea- 
son, conscience, taste, habit, interest, fear, must 
perpetually oppose it: but the philosophy that aims 
at a total subversion of human sentiment is not on 
that account the less detestable. And yet it is said 
of the authors of this philosophy, that they exert 
their great talents in promoting the good of man- 
kind. V/hat an insult on human nature and com- 
mon sense ! If mankind are tame enough to acqui- 
esce in such an insult, and servile enough to reply, 
'^It is true, we haveheen much obliged to the cel- 

Ff 



328 4N ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

ebrated sceptics of this most enlightened age,"— 
they would almost tempt one to express himself in 
the style of misanthropy, and say, '< Si populus vuit 
decipi, d^cipiatur." 

Every doctrine is dangerous that tends to discre- 
dit the evidence of our senses, external or internal, 
and to subvert the original instinctive principles of 
human belief. In this respect the most unnatural 
and incomprehensible absurdities, such as the doc- 
trine of the non-existence of matter, and of per- 
ceptions without a percipient, are far from being 
harmless ; as they seem to lead, and actually have 
led, to universal scepticism ; and set an example 
of a method of reasoning sufficient to overturn all 
truth, and pervert every human faculty. In this 
respect also we have proved the doctrine of fatali- 
ty to be of most pernicious tendency, as it leads 
men to suppose their moral sentiments fallacious 
or equivocal ; not to mention its influence on our 
notions of God, and natural religion. When a 
sceptic attacks one principle of common sense, he 
does in effect attack all ; for if we are made dis- 
trustful of the veracity of instinctive conviction in 
one instance, we must, or at least we may, become 
equally distrustful in every other. A little scepti- 
cism introduced into science will soon assimilate 
the whole to its own nature ; the fatal fermenta- 
tion, once begun, spreads wider and wider every 
moment, till all the mass be transformed into rot- 
tenness and poison. 

There is no exaggeration here. The present 
state of the abstract sciences is a melancholy proof, 
that what I say is true. This is called the age of 
reason and philosophy; and this is the age of 
avowed and dogmatical atheism. Sceptics have at 
last grow^n weary of doubting ; and have now dis- 
covered, by the force- of their great talents^ that 
©ne thing at least is certain, namely, that God, and 



CHAP. III. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 329 

religion, and immortality are empty sounds. This 
is the final triumph of our so much boasted philo- 
sophic spirit ; these are the limits of the dominion 
of error, beyond which we can hardly conceiv^e it 
possible for human sophistry to penetrate. Exult, 
O Metaphysic, at the consummation of thy glo- 
ries. More thou canst not hope, more thou canst 
not desire. Fail down, ye mortals, and acknow- 
ledge the stupendous blessing : adore those men of 
great talents^ those daring spirits, those patterns of 
modesty, gentleness, and candour, those prodigies 
of genius, those heroes in beneficence, who have 
thus laboured — to strip you of every rational con- 
solation, and to make your condition ten thousand 
times worse than that of the beasts that perish. 

Why can I not express myself with less warmth \ 
Why can I not devise an apology for these philo- 
sophers, to screen them from this dreadful impu- 
tation of being the eneraies and plagues of man- 
kind! — Perhaps they do not themselves believe 
their own tenets, but publish them only as the 
means of getting a name and a fortune. But I 
hope this is not the case ; God forbid that it 
should ! for then the enormity of their guilt would 
surpass all pow er of language ; we could only 
gaze at it, and tremble. Compared with such 
wickedness, the crimes of the thief, the robber, 
the incendiary, would almost disappear. These 
sacrifice the fortunes or the lives of some of their 
fellow creatures, to their own necessity or outrage- 
ous appetite ! but those would run the hazard of 
sacrificing, to their own avarice or vanity, the hap- 
piness of all mankind, both here and hereafter. 
No ; I cannot suppose it ; the heart of man, how- 
ever depraved, is not capable of such infernal ma- 
lignity. — Perhaps they do not foresee the conse- 
quences of their doctrines. Berkeley most cer- 



3^0 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. PART III. 

tainly did not. — But Berkeley did not attack the 
religion of his country, did not seek to undermine 
the foundations of virtue, did not preach or recom- 
mend Atheism. He erred ; and who is free from 
error ? but his intentions were irreproachable ; and 
his conduct as a man, and a Christian, did honour- 
to human nature. — Perhaps our modern sceptics 
are ignorant, that without the belief of a God, and 
the hope of immortality, the miseries of human 
life would often be insupportable. But can I sup- 
pose them in a state of total and invincible stupi- 
dity, utter strangers to the human heart, and to hu- 
man affairs ! Sure they would not thank me for 
such a supposition. Yet this I must suppose, or 
I must believe them to be the most cruel, the most 
perfidious, and the most profligate of men. 

Caressed by those who call themselves the great, 
ingrossed by the formalities and fopperies of life, 
intoxicated with vanity, pampered with adulation, 
dissipated in the tumult of business, or amidst the 
vicissitudes of folly, they perhaps have little need, 
and little relish, for the consolations of religion. 
But let them know, that, in the solitary scenes of 
life, there is many an honest and tender heart 
pining with incurable anguish, pierced with the 
sharpest sting of disappointment, bereft of friends, 
chilled with poverty, racked with disease, scourg- 
ed by the oppressor ; whom nothing but trust in 
Providence, and the hope of a future retribution, 
could preserve from the agonies of despair. And 
do they, with sacrilegious hands, attempt to vio- 
late this last refuge of the miserable, and to rob 
them of the only comfort that had survived the ra- 
vages of misfortune, malice, and tyranny J Did it 
ever happen, that the influence of their execrable 
tenets disturbed the tranquillity of virtuous retire- 
ment, deepened the gloom of human distress, or 
aggravated the horrors of the grave ? Is it possible. 



CHAP. III. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 33t 

that this may have happened in many instances ? 
Is it probable that this hath happened, or may 
happen, in one single instance? — Ye traitors to 
human kind, ye murderers of the human soul, 
how can ye answer for it to your own hearts! 
Surely every spark of your generosity is extin- 
guished for ever, if this consideration do not 
awaken in you the keenest remorse, and make you 
wish in bitterness of soul — But I remonstrate in 
vain. All this must have often occurred to you, 
and been as often rejected as utterly frivolous. 
Could I enforce the present topic by an appeal to 
your vanity, I might possibly make some impres- 
sion : but to plead with you on the principles of 
benevolence or generosity, is to address you in 
language ye do not, or will not understand ; and 
as to the shame of being convicted of absurdity, 
ignorance, and want of candour, ye have long ago 
proved yourselves superior to the sense of it. 

But let not the lovers of truth be discouraged : 
Atheism cannot be of long continuance, nor is there 
much danger of its becoming universal. The in- 
fluence of some conspicuous characters has brought 
it too much into fashion ; which, in a thoughtless 
and profligate age, it is no difficult matter to ac- 
complish. But when men have retrieved the pow- 
ers of serious reflection, they will find it a fright- 
ful phantom ; and the mind will return gladly and 
eagerly to its old endearments. One thing we cer- 
tainly know; the fashion of sceptical and metaphy- 
sical systems soon passeth av/ay. Those unnatu- 
ral productions, the vile effusion of a hard and stu- 
pid heart, that mistakes its ov/n restlessness for 
the activity of genius, and its own captiousness for 
sagacity of understanding, may, like other mon- 
sters, please awhile by their singularity ; but the 
charm is soon over ; and the succeeding age v/ill be 
astonished to hear, that their forefathers were de» 

Ff 2 



33^ AN ESSAY ©N TRUTH. PART III. 

luded, or amused, with such fooleries. The mea- 
sure of scepticism seems indeed to be full ; it is 
time for truth to vindicate her rights, and we trust 
they shall yet be completely vindicated. Such are 
the hopes and the earnest wishes of one, who has 
seldom made controversy his study, who never 
took pleasure in argumentation, and who disclaims 
all ambition of being reputed a subtle disputant ; 
but who, as a friend to human nature, would ac- 
count it his honour to be instrumental in promot- 
ing, though by means unpleasant to himself, the 
cause of virtue and true science, and in bringing 
to contempt that sceptical sophistry which is equal- 
ly subversive of both. 



*0*ji 



POSTSCRIPT. 



Mvembery 1770. 

TO read and criticise the modern systems of scep» 
ticism is so disagreeable a task, that nothing but a 
regard to dutf could ever have determined me to 
engage in it. I found in them neither instruction 
nor amusement ; I wrote against them with all the 
disgust that one feels in wrangling with an unrea- 
sonable adversary ; and I published what I had writ- 
ten with the certain prospect of raising many ene- 
mies, and with such an opinion of my performance, as 
allowedme not to entertain any sanguine hopes of suc« 
cess. I thought it however possible, nay, and probable 
too, that this book might do good. I knew that it 
contained some matters of importance, which if I 
was not able to set them in the best light, might how= 
ever, by my means, be suggested to others more 
capable to do them justice. 

Since these papers were first published, I have 
laid myself out to obtain information of what has 
been sidd of them, both by their friends, and by 
their enemies ; hoping to profit by the censures 
of the latter, as well as by the admonitions of the 
former. I do not; hear, that any person has accused 
me of misconceiving or misrepresenting my adver- 
saries' doctrine. Again and again have I requested 
it of those whom 1 knew to be masters of the whole 
controversy, to give me their thoughts freely on this 
point ; find they have repeatedly told me, that, in 
their judgment, nothing of this kind can be laid to 
,. jpy charge. 

Most of the objections that have been made I had 
foreseen, and, as I thought, sufficiently obviated 



S34 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. P. S* 

by occasional remarks in the course of the essay. 
But, in regard to some of them, I find it necessary 
now to bemore particular. I wish to give the fullest 
satisfaction to every candid nriind : and I am sure I do 
not, on these subjects, entertain a single thought 
which 1 need to be ashamed or afraid to lay before 
the public. 

I have been much blamed * for entering so warm- 
ly into this controversy. In order to prepossess the 
minds of those who had not read this performance, 
with an unfavourable opinion of it, and of its author, 
insinuations have been made, and carefully helped 
about, that it treats only of some abstruse points of 
speculative metaphysics ; which, however, I am ac- 
cused of having discussed, or attempted to discuss, 
with all the zeal of the most furious bigot, indulging 
myself in an indecent vehemence of language, and 
uttering the most rancorous invectives against those 
who differ from me in opinion. Much, on this oc- 
casion, has been said in praise of moderation and 
scepticism ; moderation, the source of candour, 
good-breeding, and good-nature ; and scepticism, the 
child of impartiality, and the parent of humility. 
When men believe with full conviction, nothing, it 
seems, is to be expected from them but bigotry and 
bitterness : when they suffer themselves in their in- 
quiries to be biassed by partiality, or warmed with 
affection they are philosophers no longer, but revi- 
lers and enthusiasts I — If this were a just account of 
the matter and manner of the Mssay on Truths I 
should not have the face to attempt an apology ; for 
were any person guilty of the fault here complained 

* Injustice to the public I must here observe, that the 
elamour ag^ainst me on account of this book, however loud 
and alai;ming at first, appears now to have been raised and 
propagated by a feiv p&f^sons of a particular party in Scotland i 
and to have owed its rise to prejudice, and its progress to 
defamation ; to engines of malignity which an honest man 
would be much more sorry to see employed fot him tha^ 
against him. 



p. S. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. ' 335 

of, I myself should certainly be one of the first to 
condemn him. 

In the whole circle of human sciences, real or 
pretended, there is not any thing to be found which 
I think more perfectly contemptible than the specu- 
lative metaphysics of the moderns. It is indeed a 
most wretched medley of ill-digested notions, in- 
distinct perceptions, inaccurate observations, per- 
verted language, and sophistical argument ; distin- 
guishing where there is no difference, and confound- 
ing where there is no similitude ; feigning difficul- 
ties where it cannot find them, and overlooking them 
when real. I know no end that the study of such a 
jargon can answer, except to harden and stupify the 
heart, bewilder the understanding, sour the temper^ 
and habituate the mind to irresolution, caption sness, 
and falsehood. For studies of this sort I have nei- 
ther time nor inclination, I have neither head nor 
heart. To enter into them at all, is foolish ; to en- 
ter into them with warmth, ridiculous ; but to treat 
those with any bitterness, whose judgments con- 
cerning them may differ from ours, is in a very high 
degree odious and criminal. Thus far, then, my ad- 
versaries and I are agreed. Had the sceptical phi« 
losophers confined themselves to those inoffensive 
wranglings 4hat shew only the subtlety and captious- 
ness of the disputant, but afiect not the principles of 
human conduct, they never would have found an op- 
ponent in me. My passion for writing is not strong ; 
and my love of controversy so weak, that if it could 
always be avoided with a safe conscience, I would 
never engage in it at all. But when doctrines are 
published subversive of morality and religion ; doc- 
trines, of which I perceive and have it in my power 
to expose the absurdity, my duty to the public for- 
bids me to be silent ; especially when I see, that by 
the influence of fashion, folly, or more criminal 
causes, those doctrines spread wider and wider eve- 
ry day^^ diffusing ignorance, misery, and licentious- 
ness, wherever they prevail. Let us oppose the 



336 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. P. S. 

torrent, though we should not be able to check it. 
The zeal and example of the weak have often roused 
to action, and to victory, the slumbering virtue of 
the strong. 

I likewise agree with my adversaries in this, that 
scepticism, where it tends to make men well-bred 
and good-natured, and to rid them, of pedantry and 
petulance, without doing individuals or society any 
harm, is an excellent thing. And some sorts of 
scepticism there are, that really have this tendency. 
In philosophy, in history, in politics, yea, and even in 
theology itself, there are many points of doubtful 
disputation, in regard to which a man's judgment 
may lean to either of the sides, or hang wavering 
between them, without any inconvenience to him- 
self, or others. Whether pure space exists or how 
we come to form an idea of it; whether all the objects 
of human reason may be fairly reduced to Aristotle's 
ten categories ; whether Hannibal, when he passed 
the Alps, had any vinegar in his camp ; whether 
Richard III. was as remarkable for cruelty and a 
hump-back, as is commonly believed ; whether 
Mary Queen of Scotland married Bothwell from in* 
elination, or from the necessity of her affairs ; whe- 
ther the earth is better peopled now than it was in 
ancient times ; whether public iprayers should be 
recited from memory or read : — ^in regard to these 
and such like questions, a little scepticism may be 
very safe and very proper, and I v/ill never think 
the worse of a man for differing from me in opinion. 
And if ever it should be my chance to engage in 
controversy on such questions, I here filcdge myself 
to the public^ (absit invidia verbo 1), that I will con- 
duct the whole affair with the most exemplary cool- 
ness of blood, and lenity of language. I have always 
observed that strong conviction is much miore apt to 
breed strife in matters of little moment, than in sub- 
jects of high importance. Not to mention (what 
I would willingly forget) the scandalous contests 
that have prevailed in the Christian world about 



p. S. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 337 

trifling ceremonies and points of doctrine, I need 
only put the reader in mind of those learned critics 
and annotators, Salmasius, Valla, and Scaliger, 
who, in their squabbles about words, gave scope to 
such rancorous animosity and virulent abuse, as is 
altogether without example. In every case, where 
dogmatical belief tends to harden the heart, or to 
breed prejudices incompatible with candour, human- 
ity, and the love of truth, all good men will be care- 
ful to cultivate moderation and diffidence. 

But there are other points in regard to which a 
strong conviction produces the best effects, and doubt 
and hesitation the worst : and these are the points 
that our sceptics labour to subvert, and I to establish. 
That the human soul is a real and permanent sub-^ 
stance, that God is infinitely wise and good, that virtue 
and vice are essentially different, that there is such a 
thing as truth, and that man in many cases is capable 
of discovering it, are some of the principles which 
this book is intended to vindicate from the objections 
of scepticism. Attempts have been made to per- 
suade us, that there is no evidence of truth in any 
science ; that the human understanding ought not 
to believe any thing, but rather to remain in perpe- 
tual suspense between opposite opinions ; that it is 
unreasonable to believe the Deity to be perfectly 
wise and good, or even to exist; that the soul of 
man has nothing permanent in its nature, nor indeed 
any kind of existence distinct from its present per- 
ceptions, which are continually changing, and will 
soon be at an end ; and that moral distinctions are 
ambiguous and artificial, depending rather on hu- 
man caprice and fashion, than on the nature of things, 
or the divine will. This scepticism, the reader will 
observe, is totally subversive of science, morality, 
and religion both natural and revealed. And this is 
the scepticism which I am blamed for having oppo- 
sed with warmth and earnestness. 

I desire to know, what good effects this scepticism 
is likely to produce ? " It humbles," we are told, 



338 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. P. S, 

" our pride of tiiiderstanding." Indeed ! And are 
they to be considered as patterns of humility, who 
set the wisdom of all former ages at nought, bid de- 
fiance to the common sense of mankind, and say to 
the wisest and best men that ever did honour to our 
nature. Ye are fools or hypocrites ; we only are can- 
did, honest and sagacious? Is this humilityl Should 
I be humble, if I were to speak and act in this man- 
ner! Everyman of sense would pronounce me lost \o 
all shame, an apostate from truth and virtue, an ene- 
my to human kind ; and my own conscience would 
justify the censure. 

And so, it seems that pride of understanding is 
inseparable fi'om the disposition of those who be- 
lieve that they have a soul, that there is a God, that 
virtue and vice are essentially different, and that 
men are in some cases permitted to discern the dif- 
ference between truth and falsehood ! Yet the gos- 
pel requires or supposes the belief of all these 
points : the gospel also commands us to be humble : 
and the spirit and influence of the gospel have pro- 
duced the most perfect examples of that virtue that 
ever appeared among men. A believer may be 
proud : but it is neither his belief, nor what he be- 
lieves, that can make him so; for both ought to teach 
him humility. To call in question, and labour to 
subvert, those first principles of science, morality 
and religion, which all the rational part of mankind 
acknowledge, is indeed an indication of a proud 
and presumptuous understanding : but does the 
sceptic lay this to the charge of the believer? I have 
heard of a thief, when close pursued, turning on his 
pursuers, and charging them with robbery : but I 
do not think the example worthy a philosopher's 
imitation. 

The prevention of bigotry is said to be another of 
the blessed effects of this modern scepticism. And 
indeed, if sceptics would act consistently with their 
own principles, there would be ground for the re- 
mark : for a man who believes nothing at all, can- 



p, s. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* 339 

not be said to be blindly attached to any opinion, ex- 
cept perhaps to this one, that nothing is to be be- 
lieved; in which, however, if behave any regard 
to uniformity of character, he will take care not to 
be dogmatical. But it is well known to all who have 
had any opportunity of observing his conduct, that 
the sceptic rejects those opinions only which the 
rest of mankind admit: for that, in adhering to his 
own paradoxes, the most devoted anchorite, the 
most furious inquisitor, is not a greater bigot than 
he. An ingenious author has therefore, with very 
'good reason, made it one of the articles of the Infi- 
del's creed. That, " he believes in all unbelief*." 
Though a late writer is a perfect sceptic in regard 
to the existence of his soul and body, he is certain, 
that men have no idea of power : though he has 
many doubts and difficulties about the evidence of 
mathematical truth, he is quite positive that his soul 
is not Ihe same thing to-day it was yesterday, and 
though he affirms that it is by an act of the human 
understanding, that two and two ha,ve come to be 
equal to four, yet he cannot allow, that to steal or to 
abstain from stealing, to act, or to cease from ac- 
tion, is in the power of any man. In reading seep* 
tical books, I have^ften found, that the strength of 
the author's attachment to his paradox," is in pro- 
portion to its absurdity. If it deviates but a little 
from common opinion, he gives himself but little 
trouble about it ; if it be inconsistent with universal 
belief, he condescends to' argue the matter, and to 
bring what with him passes for a proof of it ; if it be 
such as no man ever did or could believe, he is still 
more conceited of his proof, and calls it a denaon- 
stration ; but if it is inconceivable, it is a wonder if 
he does not take it for granted. Thus, that our idea 
of extension, is extended, is inconceivable, and in the 
Treatise of Human J\^ature is taken for granted ; that 
matter exists only in the mind that perceives it, is 

* Connoisseur, No. 9. 
G g 



o 



40 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. P. S* 



what no man ever did or could believe ; and the au- 
thor of the Treatise concerning the Principles of Hu- 
man Knowledge^ has favoured the world with what 
passes among the fashionable metaphysicians for a 
demonstration of it: that moral, intellectual, and 
corporeal virtues, are all upon the same footing, is 
inconsistent with universal belief; and a famous 
Essayist has argued the matter at large, and would 
fain persuade us, that he has proved ic ; though I 
do not recollect, that he triumphs in this proof as so 
perfectly irresistible, as those by which he con- 
ceives himself to have annihilated the idea of power, 
and exploded the existence and permanency of per- 
cipient substances. I will not say, however, that 
this gradation holds universally. Sceptics, it must 
be owned, bear a right zealous attachment to all 
their absurdities, both greater or less. If they are 
most warmly interested in behalf of the former, it 
is, I suppose, because they have had the sagacity to 
foresee, that those would stand most in need of their 
countenance and protection. 

We see how far scepticism may be said to prevent 
bigotry. It prevents all bigotry, and all strong at- 
tachment on the side of truth and common sense ; 
but in behalf of its own paradoxes, it establishes bi- 
gotry the most implicit and the most obstinate. It 
is true, that sceptics sometimes tell us, that, how- 
ever positively they may assert their doctrines, they 
would not have us think them positive assertors of 
any doctrine. Sextus Empiricus has done this ; 
and some too, if I mistake not, of our modern Pyrr- 
honists. But common readers are not capable of 
such exquisite refinement, as to believe, their au- 
thor to be in earnest, and at the same time not in 
earnest ; as to believe, that when he asserts some 
points with diffidence, and others with the utmost 
confidence, he holds himself to be equally diffident 
ef all. 

There is but one way in which it is possible for a 
'SiEreptic to satisfy us, that he is equally doubtful of 



p. &. A^ E$SAY ON^TRUTH^ 341 

all doctrines. He must assert nothing, lay down no 
principles, contradict none of the opinions of other 
people, and advance none of his own : in a word, he 
must confine his doubts to his own breast, at least 
the grounds of his doubts ; or propose them mo- 
destly and privately, not with a view to make us 
change our mind, but only to shew his ov/n diffi- 
dence. For, from the moment that he attempts to 
obtrude them on the public, or on any individual, 
4)r even to represent the opinion of others as less 
probable than his own, he commences a dogmatist ; 
and is to be accounted more or less presumptuous, 
according as his doctrine is more or less repugnant 
to common sense, and himself more or less indus- 
trious to recommend it. 

Though he were to content himself with urging 
objections, without seeking to lay down any princi- 
ple of his own, which however is a degree of mo- 
deration that no sceptic ever yet arrived at, we 
would nt)t on that account pronounce him an inof- 
fensive man. If his objections have ever weakened 
the moral or religious belief of any one person, he 
has injured that person in his dearest and ^ost im- 
portant concerns. They who know the value of 
^ true religion, and have had any opportunity of ob 
serving its effects on themselves or others, need not 
be told, how dreadful to a sensible mind it is, to be 
staggered in its faith by the cavils of the infidel. 
Every person of common humanity, who knows any 
thing of the heart of man, would shudder at the 
thought of infusing scepticism into the pious Chris- 
tian. Suppose the Christian to retain his faith in 
spite of all objections ; yet the confutation of these 
cannot fail to distress him ; and a habit of doubting, 
once begun, may, to the latest hour of his life, prove 
fatal to his peace of mind. Let no one mistake or 
misrepresent me : I am not speaking of those points 
of doctrine which rational believers allow to be in- 
different : I speak of those great and most essential 
articles of faith ; the existence of a Deity, infinitely 



o42 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. p. S- 

wise, beneficent, and powerful ; the certainty of a 
future state of retribution ; and the divine authority 
of the gospel. These are the articles which some 
late authors labour with all their might to overturn ; 
and these are the articles which every person who 
loves virtue and mankind, would wish to see ardent- 
ly and zealously defended. Is it bigotry to believe 
these sublime truths with full assurance of faith ? I 
glory in such bigotry : I would not part with it for a 
thousand worlds : I congratulate the man who is 
possessed of it ; for, amidst all the vicissitudes and 
calamities of the present state, that man enjoys an 
inexhaustible fund of consolation, of which it is not 
in the power of fortune to deprive him. Calamities, 
did I say I The evils of a very short life will not be 
accounted such by him who has a near and certain 
prospect of a happy eternity. — Will it be said, that 
the hrm belief of these divine truths did ever give 
rise to ill-nature or persecution ? It will not be said, 
by any person who is at ail acquainted with history, 
or the human mind. Of such belief, when sincere, 
and undebased by criminal passions, meekness, be- 
nevolence, and forgiveness, are the natural and ne- 
cessary effects. There is not a book on earth so fa- 
vourable to all the kind, and all the sublime affec^ 
tions, or so unfriendly to hatred and persecution, to 
tyranny, injustice, and every sort of malevolence, as 
that very gospel against which our sceptics enter- 
t*|tin such a rancorous antipathy. Of this they can- 
not be ignorant, if they have ever read it; for it 
breathes nothing throughout but mercy, benevo- 
lence, and peace. If they have not read it, they and 
their prejudices are as far below our contempt as 
any thing so hateful can be |^ if they have, their pre- 
tended concern for the rights of mankind is all hy- 
pocrisy and a lie. Nor need they attempt to frame 
an answer to this accusation, till they have proved, 
that the morality of the gospel is faulty or imper- 
fect ; that virtue is not useful to individuals, nor be- 
neficial to society ; that the evils of life are most ef- 



p. S. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. S43 

fectually alleviated by the extinction of ail hope ; 
that annihilation is a much more encouraging pros- 
pect to virtue, than the certain view of eternal hap- 
piness ; that nothing is a greater check to vice, than 
a firm persuasion that no punishment awaits it ; and 
that it is a consideration full of misery to a good 
man, when weeping on the grave of a beloved 
friend, to reflect, that they shall soon meet again in 
a better state, never to part any more. Till the 
teachers and abettors of infidelity have proved these 
points or renounced their pretensions to universal 
patriotism, their character is polluted with all the 
infamy that can be implied in the appellation of liar 
and hyfiocrite, 

I wonder at those men who charge upon Chris- 
tianity all the evils that superstition, avarice, sen- 
suality, and the love of power, have introduced into 
the Christian world ; and then suppose, that these 
evils are to be prevented, not by suppressing crimi- 
nal passions, but by extirpating Christianity, or 
weakening its influence. In fact, our religion sup- 
plies the only efleetual means of suppressing these 
passions^ and so preventing the mischief complained 
of ; and this it will ever be more or less powerful 
to accomplish, according as its inflitence over the 
minds of men is greater or less ; ctnd greater or less 
will its influence be, according as its doctrines are 
m.ore or less firmly believed. It was not, because 
they were Christians, but because they chose to be 
the avaricious and blood-thirsty slaves of an avari^ 
cious and blood-thirsty tyrant, that Cortez and Pi- 
zarro perpetrated those diabolical cruelties in Peru 
and Mexico, the narrative of which is insupporta- 
ble to humanity. Had they been Christians in any 
thing but in name, they would have loved their 
neighbour as themselves ; and \\o ma,n who loves 
his neighbour; as himself, will ever cut his throat 
or roast him alive, in order to get at his money. 

If zeal be warrantable on any occasion, it must 
be so in tlie present controversy: for I know of no 

G g 2 



344 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, P. S. 

doctrines more important in themselves, or more 
affecting to a sensible mind, than those which the 
scepticism confuted in this book tends to subvert. 
But why, it may be said, should zeal be warrantable 
on any occasion ? The answer is easy : Because on 
some occasions it is decent and natural. When a 
man is deeply interested in his subject, it is not na- 
tural for him to keep up the appearance of as much 
coolness, as if he were disputing about an indiffer- 
ent matter : and whatever is not natural is always 
offensive. Were he to hear his dearest friends 
branded with the appellation of knaves and ruffians, 
would it be natural, would it be decent, for him to 
preserve the same indifference in his look, and 
softness in his manner, as if he were investigating a 
truth in conic sections, arguing about the cause of 
the Aurora Borealis, or settling a point of ancient 
history ? Ought he not to shew, by the sharpness 
as well as by the solidity of his reply, that he not 
only disavows, but detests the accusation ? Is there 
a man whose indignation would not kindle at such 
an insult ? Is there a man who would be so much 
overawedjby any antagonist, as to conceal his indig- 
nation ? Of such a man I shall only say, that I would 
not choose Mm for my friend. When our subject 
lies near our heart our language must be animated, 
or it will be worse than lifeless ; it will be affected 
and hypocritical. Now what subject can lie nearer 
the heart of a Christian, or of a man, than the ex- 
istence and perfections of God, and the immortality 
of the human soul ? If he can not, if he ought not 
to hear with patience the blasphemies belched by 
unthinking profligates in their common conversa- 
tion, with what temper of mind will he listen or re- 
ply to the cool, insidious, and envenomed impieties 
of the deliberate-Atheist !— Fye on it! that I should 
need to write so long an apology for being an enemy 
to Atheism and nonsense ! 

" But why engage in the coMroversy at all ? Let 
** 4he infidel d0 bis worst, and heap sophism on so- 



p. S. AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. 

<^ phism, and rail, and blaspheme as long as he 
'^ pleases ; if your religion be from God, or founded 
** in reason, it cannot be overthrown. Why then 
^^ give yourself or others any trouble with your at- 
" tempts to support a cause, against which it is said 
" that hell itself shall not prevail ?" — This objec- 
tion has been made, and urged too with confidence. 
It has just as much weight as the following. Why- 
enact laws against, or inflict punishment upon mur- 
derers ? Let them do their worst, and stab, and 
strangle, and poison, as much as they please, they 
will never be able to accomplish the final extermi- 
nation of the human species, nor perhaps to depo- 
pulate a single province. — Such idle talk deserves 
no answer, or but a very short one. We do be- 
lieve, and therefore we rejoice, that our religion 
shall flourish in spite of all the sophistry of malevo- 
lent men. But is their sophistry the less wicked on 
that account ? Does it not deserve to be punished 
with ridicule and confutation ? Have we reason to 
hope, that a miracle will be wrought to save any in- 
dividual from infidelity, or even any believer from 
those doubts and apprehensions which the writings 
of infidels are intended to raise ? And is it not worth 
our while, is it not our duty, ought it not to be our 
inclination, to endeavour to prevent such a calamity ? 
Nor let us imagine that this is the businens of the 
clergy alone. They, no doubt, are best qualified 
for this service ; but we of the laity who believe the 
gospel, are under the same obligation to wish well, 
and according to our ability, to do good to our fel- 
low-creatures. For my own part, though the writ- 
ing of this book had been a work of much greater 
difficulty JMid labour than I found it to be, I would 
have cheerfully undertaken it, in the hope of being 
instrumental in reclaiming even a single sceptic 
from his unhappy prejudices, or in preserving even 
a single believer from the horrors of scepticism. 
Tell me not, that those horrors have no existence. 
I kno^ the contrary. Tell me not, that the good 



346 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH* P. Si. 

ends proposed can never in any jclegree be accom- 
plished by performances of this kind. Of this too I 
know the contrary. 

Suppose a set of men, subjects of the British go- 
vernment, to publish books setting forth. That li- 
berty, both civil and religious, is an absurdity ; that 
•trial by juries, the Habeas Corfius act. Magna Char- 
ta, and the Protestant religion, are intolerable nui- 
sances ; and that Popery, despotism, and the inqui- 
sition, ought immediately to be established through- 
out the whole British empire ; suppose them to ex- 
hort their countrymen to overturn, or at least to dis- 
regard our excellent laws and constitution, and make 
'a tender of their souls and consciences to the Pope, 
and of their lives and fortunes to the Grand Seignior ; 
— and suppose them to write so cautiously as to es- 
cape the censure of the law, and yet with plausibi- 
lity sufficient to seduce many, and give rise to much 
dissatisfaction^ discord and licentious practice, equal- 
ly fatal to the happiness of individuals and to the pub- 
lic j>ea.ce : — With what temper would an English- 
man of sense and spirit set about confuting their 
principles ? Would it be decent, or even pardonable, 
to hciudle such a subject with coolness, or to behave 
with complaisance towards such adversaries ? Sup- 
pose them to have specious qualities, and to pass 
with their own party for men of candour, genius 
and learning : yet the lover of liberty and mankind 
would not, I presume, be disposed to pay them any 
excessive compliments on that account, or on any 
other. But suppose these political apostates to ap- 
pear, in the course of the controversy, chargeable 
with ignorance and sophistical reasoning, with eva- 
sive and quibbling refinements, with nlisrepresen- 
tion of com^:non facts, and misapprehension of com- 
mon language, more attached to hypothesis than to 
the truth, preferring their own conceits to the com- 
mon sense of mankind, and seeking tp gratify their 
own exorbitant vanity and lust of paradox, though 
at the expence of the happiness of millions ;— -with 



>. S. AN ESiSAY ON TRUTH. 347 

what face could their most abject flatterers, and most 
implicit admirei's, complain of the severity of that 
antagonist who should treat, both them and their 
principles with contempt and indignation ? with 
what face urge in their defence, that, though per- 
haps somewhat blameable on the present occasion, 
they and their works were notwithstanding intitled 
to universal esteem, and the most respectful usage, 
on account of their skill in music, architecture, geo- 
metry, and the Greek and Latin tongues 1 On this 
account, would they be in any less degree the pests 
of society, or the enemies of mankind ? would their 
false reasoning be less sophistical, their presump- 
tion less arrogant, or their malevolence less atro- 
cious ? Do not the men who, like Alexander, Ma- 
chiavcl, and the author of La Pucelle d'Orleans, 
employ their greattalents in destroying and corrupt- 
ing mankind, aggravate all their other crimes by 
the drcwidful addition of ingratitude ahd breach of 
trust ? And are not their characters, for this very 
reason, the more obnoxious to universal abhor- 
rence ? An illiterate blockhead in the Robinhood 
tavern, blaspheming the Saviour of mankind, or la- 
bouring to confound the distinctions of vice and vir- 
tue, is a wicked wretch, no doubt ; but his wicked- 
ness admits of some shadow of excuse : he m.ight 
plead his ignorance, his stupidity, and the still more 
profligate lives and principles of those whom the 
world, by a preposterous figure of speech, is pleased 
to call his betters : but the men of parts and learn- 
ing, who join in the same infernal cry, are crimi- 
nals of a much higher order ; for in their defence 
nothing can be pleaded that will not aggravate their 
guilt. 

My design in this book wa.s, to give others the 
very same notions of the sceptical philosophy that I 
myself entertain ; which I could not possibly have 
done, if I had not taken the liberty to deliver my 
thoughts plainly and without reserve. And truly I 
saw no reason for being more indulgent to the writ- 



348 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. P. S. 

ings of sceptics, than to those of other men. The 
taste of the public requires not any such extraordi- 
nary condescension. If ever it should, which is 
not probable, we may then think it prudent to com- 
ply ; but, as we scorn, in matters of such moment, 
to express ourselves by halves, we will then also 
throw pen and ink aside, never to be resumed until 
we again find, that we may with safety write, and 
be honest at the same time. 

Infidels take it upon them to treat religion and its 
friends with opprobrious language, misrepresent- 
ation, undeserved ridicule, and divers other sorts 
of abuse. Some of them assert, with the most dog- 
matical assurance, what they know to be contrary to 
the common sense of mankind. All this passes for 
wit, and eloquence, and liberal inquiry, and a manly 
spirit. But whenever the friends of truth espouse, 
with warmth, that cause which theyAnow to be 
agreeable to common sense and universal opinion, 
this is called bigotry : and whenever the Christian 
^vindicates, with earnestness, those principles which 
he believes to be of the highest importance, and 
which he knows to be essential to the happiness of 
man, immediately he is charged with want of mo- 
deration, want of temper, enthusiasm, and the spi- 
rit of persecution. Far be it from the lover of truth 
to imitate those authors in misrepresentation, or in 
endeavouring to expose their adversaries to unme- 
rited ridicule. ' Bnt if a man were to obtain a patent 
for vending poison, it would be very hard to deny 
his neighbour the privilege of selling the antidote. 
If their zeal in spreading and recommending their 
doctrines be suffered to pass without censure, our 
zeal in vindicating ours has at least as good a title to 
pass uncensured. If this is not allowed, I must 
suppose,' that the present race of infidels, like the 
jure divino kings, imagine themselves invested with 
some peculiar sanctity of character ; that whatever 
they are pleased to say is to be received as law and 
the fashion \ and that to contradict their will, or 



nj 



?. S, AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. o4^ 

even address them without prostration, is indecent 
and criminal. I know not whence it is that they 
assume these airs of superiority. Is it from the 
high rank some of them hold in the world of letters? 
I would have them to know, that it* is but a short 
time since that high rank was either yielded to, or 
claimed by such persons. Spinoza, Hobbes, Col- 
lins, Woolston, and the rest of that tribe, were 
within these forty or fifty years accounted a very 
contemptible brotherhood. The great geniuses of 
the last age treated them with little ceremony; and 
would not, I suppose, were they now alive, pay 
more respect to imitators, copiers, and plagiaries, 
than they did to the original authors. If the ene- 
mies of our religion would profit by experience, 
they might learn, from the fate of some of their 
most renowned brethren, that infidelity, however 
fashionable and lucrative, is not the most conveni- 
ent field for a successful display of genius. Ever 
since Voltaire, stimulated by avarice, and other do- 
tages incident to unprincipled old age, formed the 
scheme of turning a penny by writing three or four 
volumes yearly against the Christian religion, he 
has dwindled from a genius of no common magn:- 
tude into a paltry book-maker ; and now think he 
does great and terrible things, by retailing the crude 
and long exploded notions of the free-thinkers of the 
last age, which, when seasoned with a few mistakes, 
misrepresentations, and ribaldries of his own, form 
such a mess of falsehood, impiety, obscenity, and 
other abominable ingredients, as nothing but the 
monstrous maw of an illiterate infidel can either di- 
gest or endure. Several of our famous sceptics 
have lived to see the greatest part of their profane te- 
nets confuted. I hope, and earnestly wish, that they 
may live to make a full recantation. Some of them 
must have known, and many of them might have 
known, that their tenets were confuted before they 
jadopted them: yet did they adopt them notwith- 
standing, and display them to the world with sts 



350 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. P. S* 

much confidence as if nothing had ever been advan- 
ced on the other side. So have I seen a testy and 
stubborn dogmatist, vi^hen all his arguments were 
answered, and all his invention exhausted, comfort 
himself at last with simply repeating his former po- 
sitions at the end of each new remonstrance from 
the adversary. * 

They who are conversant in the works of the scep- 
tical philosophers, know very well, that those gen- 
tlemen do riot always maintain that moderation of 
style which might be expected from persons of their 
profession ; and if I thought my conduct in this 
respect needed to be or could be, justified by such a 
precedent, I might plead even their example as piy 
apology. But I disclaim every plea that such a pre- 
cedent could afford me : I write not in the spirit of 
retaliation; and when I find myself inclined to be 
an imitator, I will look out for other models. In- 
deed it is hardly to be supposed, that I would take 
those for my pattern, whose talents I despise, whose 
writings I detest, and whose principles and projects 
are so directly opposite to mine. Their writings 
tend to subvert the foundation of human knowledge, 
to poison the sources of human happiness, and to 
overturn that religion which the best and wisest 
of men have believed to be of divine original, and 
which every good man, who understands it, must 
ixverence as the greatest blessing ever conferred 
upon the human race. I write with a view to coun- 
teract those tendencies, by vindicating some funda- 
mental articles of religion and science from the 
sceptical objections, and by shewing, that no man 
can attempt to disprove the first principles of know- 
ledge without contradicting himself. To the com- 
mon sense of mankind, they scruple not to oppose 
their own conceits, as if they judged these to be 
more worthy of credit than any other authority, hu- 
man or divine. I urge nothing with any degree of 
confidence or fervour, in which I have not good rea- 
son to tliink myself warranted by the common sense 



p. S# AN ESSAY ON TRUTH, o5l 

ofmaftkind. Does their cause, then, or does mine, 
deserve the warmest attachment? Have they, or 
have I, the most need to guard against vehemence 
of expression* ? As certainly as the happiness of 
fiiankind is a desirable object, so certainly is my 
cause good, and theirs evil. 

To conclude; Liberty of speech and writing is 
one of those high privileges that distinguish Great- 
Britain from all other nations. Every good subject 
wishes, that it may be preserved to the latest pos- 
terity ; and would be sorry to see the civil power 
interpose to check the pix)gress of rational inquiry. 
Nay, when inquiry ceases to be rational, and be- 
comes both whimsical and pernicious, advancing as 
far as some late authors have carried it, to contro- 
vert the first principles of knowledge, morality and 
religion, and consequently the fundamental laws of 
the British government, and of all well-regulated 
society ; even then, it mvist do more hurt than good 
to oppose it with the arm of flesh. For persecution 
and punishment for the sake of opinion, seldom fail 
to strengthen the party they are intended to sup- 
press ; and when opinions are combated by such 
weapons only, (which would probably bathe case if 
the law were to interpose), a suspicion arises in the 
minds of men, that no other weapons are to be had ; 
and therefore that the sectary, though destitute of 
power, is not wanting in argument. Let opinions 
then be combated by reason, and let ridicule be em- 

* " There is no satisfying' the demands of false delicacy,'' 
says an elegant and pious author, " because they are not 
regulated by any fixed standard. But a man of candour 
and judgment will allow, that the bashful timidity prac- 
tised by those who put themselves on a level with the ad- 
versaries of religion, would ill become one who, declin- 
ing all disputes, asserts primary truths on the authority 
" of common sense ; and that whoever pleads the cause of 
religion in this way, has a right to assume a firmer tone, 
and to pronounce with a more decisive air, not upon the 
strength of his own judgment, but on the reverence, due 
from ail mankind to the tribunal to which he appeals." 
Ostvald^s Appeal m behalf of religion, p, 14> 
H h 



a 
ft 



i( 



352 AN EBSAY ON TRUTH. F. s» 

ployed to expose nonsense. And to keep onr licen- 
tious authors in awe, and to make it their interest to 
think before they write, to examine facts before 
they draw inferences, to read books before they cri^ 
ticise them, and to study both sides of a question 
before they take it upon them to give judgment, it 
would not be amiss, if their vices and follies, as au- 
thors, were sometimes chastised by a satirical seve- 
rity of expression. This is a proper punishment 
for their fault; this punishment they certainly de- 
serve ; and this it is not beneath the dignity of a phi- 
losopher, or divine, or any man who loves God 
and his fellow-creatures, to inflict. Milton, Locke, 
Cudworth, Sidney, Tillotson, and several of the 
greatest and best writers of the present age, have 
set the example; and have, I doubt not, done good 
by their nervous and animated expression, as well 
as by tlie solidity of their arguments. This punish- 
ment, if inflicted with discretion, might teach our 
licentious authors something of modesty, and of de- 
fcjrence to the judgment of mankind ; and, it is to 
be hoped, would in time bring down that spirit of 
presumption, and afl'ected superiority, which hath 
of late distinguished their writings, and contributed, 
more perhaps than all their subtlety and sophistry, 
to the seduction of the ignorant, the unwary, and 
the fashionable. It is true, the best of causes may 
be pleaded with an excess of warmth; a& when the 
advocate is so blinded by his zeal as to lose sight of 
his argument; or as when, in order to render his 
adversaries odious, he alludes to such particulars 
of their character or private history as are not to be 
gathered from their writings. The former fault, 
never fails, to injure the cause which the writer 
means to defend: the latter, which is properly 
tevmed fle7'sonal abuse^ is in itself so hateful, that 
every person of common prudence would be inclin- 
ed to avoid it for his own sake, even though he were 
not restrained by more weighty motives. If an au- 
thor's writings be subversive of virtue, and danger- 
ous to private happiness, and the public good, we 



p. S. AN ESSAY ON TRUTHi 35 



rt 



ought to hold them in detestation, and, in order ta 
counteract their baneful tendency, to endeavour to 
render them detestable in the eyes of others ; thus 
far we act the part of honest men, and good citi- 
zens : but with his private history we have no con- 
cern ; nor with his character, except in so far as he 
has thought proper to submit it to the public judg- 
ment, by displaying it in his works. When these 
are of that peculiar sort, that we cannot expose them 
in their proper colours, without reflecting on his 
abilities and moral character, we ought by no means 
to sacrifice our love of truth and mankind to a com- 
plaisance which, if we are what we pretend to be, 
and ought to be, would be hypocritical at best, as 
well as mockeiy of the public, and treachery to our 
cause. The good of society is always to be consi- 
dered as a matter of higher importance than the gra- 
tification of an author's vanity. If he does not think 
of this in time, and take care that the latter be con- 
sistent with the former, he has himself to blame for 
all the consequences. The severity of Collier's at- 
tack upon the stage, in the end of the last century, 
was, even in the judgment of one * who thought it 
excessive, and who will not be suspected of par- 
tiality to that author's doctrine, productive of very 
good effects ; as it obliged the succeeding dramatic 
poets to curb that propension to indecency, which 
had carried some of their predecessors so far beyond 
the bounds of good taste and good manners. If we 
are not permitted to answer the objections of the in- 
fidel as plainly, and with as little reserve as he makes 
them, we engage him on unequal terms. And ma- 
ny will be disposed to think most favourably of that 
cause, whose adherents display the greatest ardour; 
and some, perhaps, may be tempted to impute to 
timidity, or to a secret diffidence of our principles, 
what might have been owing to a much more par- 
donable weakness. Nay, if we pay our sceptical 
adversaries their full demand of compliment and 

* CoUey Gibber. See his Apolog-y, vol. 1. p. 201. / 



554 AN ESSAY ON TRUTH. P. S. 

adulation ; and magnify their genius and virtue, 
while we confute their atheistical and nonsensical 
sophisms ; and speak with as much respect of their 
pitiful conceits and flimsy wranglings, as of the sub- 
limest discoveries in philosophy ; is there not rea- 
son to fear that our writings will do little or no ser- 
vice ? For, may not some of our readers question 
our sincerity ? May not many of them continue the 
admirers and dupes of the authors whom we seeni,^ 
so passionately to ctdi-nire, and whose merit will not" 
appear to them the less conspicuous that it is ac- 
knowledged by an avowed antagonist ? And lastly, 
will not the adversaries themselves, more gratified 
than hurt by such a confutation, because more ambi- 
tious of applause, than concerned for truth, rejoice 
in their fancied superiority; and, finding their 
books become every day more popular and market- 
able by the consequence we give them, be enc ^ - 
raged to persist in their malevolent and impious 
career ? 

For my own part, though I have always been, and 
shall always be, happy in applauding excellence 
wherever I find it ; yet neither the pomp of wealth 
nor the dignity of office, neither the frown of the 
great nor the sneer of the fashionable, neither the 
sciolist's clamour nor the profligate's resen^tT^*^^*^ 
shall ever sooth or frighten me into an admiratiuii, 
real or pretended, of impious tenets, sophistical 
reasoning, or that paltry metaphysic Avith which li- 
terature has been so disgraced and pestered of late 
years. I am not so much addicted to controversy, i 
as ever to enter into any but what I judge to be of 
very great importance : and into such controversy I 
cannot, I will not enter with coldness and uncon- 
cern. If I should, I might please a party, but I 
must offend the public ; I might escape the censure 
of those whose praise I would not value ; but I , 
should justly forfeit the esteem of good men, and i 
incur the disapprobation of my own conscience. ' 

THE ENP« 



m^ 



1%^ 



